Song of the Nightingale
by RisingPhoenix56
Summary: Alduin has been vanquished, and the civil war resumes in earnest. Rumors say the Stormcloaks are close to uncovering a power capable of wiping out the Legion. Hadvar must find what this power is and how to stop it. His travels lead him all over Skyrim, and to a mysterious and vexing master thief known only as the Nightingale. Includes Imperial and Thieves Guild factions.
1. The Civil War

**AN: Hey everybody! Thanks for checking out this story-been working on it for a little over a year. I don't want to talk too much about this fic before you start reading, but I wanted to point out two things. First is this story will update every Sunday night at 9pm EST, give or take a half hour for the site to process the new chapter. No exceptions unless a break is announced. Second is this is not a one-shot, even though it looks like one by the end of the first chapter. This first chapter follows the Imperial questline, but the following chapters will carry an original plotline.**

 **So, enough announcements. Story time!**

* * *

" _They say if there's no song, there's no hero. The heroes of Tamriel only know white and black; no gray allowed. The bards sing of righteous fury and valiant victory. The end of the Civil War is a song the bards won't sing. It's a song of anger strong enough to decimate giants, a song of sadness that could create an ocean. It's a song of shameless lust and crippling loss, of courage and redemption, of crime and honor. It's definitely not a song the bards sing-only the nightingales do."_

* * *

Hadvar breathed a sigh of relief as the prison carriages crossed the walls into Helgen. It had been an arduous fight to bring Ulfric Stormcloak to his knees, and the march to Helgen hadn't helped his aching body. The ambush near Darkwater Crossing was ingenious and certainly guaranteed victory to the Imperial Legion, but the Stormcloaks fought with an impressive tenacity. After an intense and blood-ridden battle, the Legion rounded up the surviving Stormcloaks to be executed in Helgen.

Hadvar caught sight of the black-robed high elves and tried his best to hide his glare. Even though the White-Gold Concordat demanded the Thalmor's presence in Skyrim, it didn't mean Hadvar had to like it. Most Imperial soldiers felt the same way, but all knew that if they didn't tolerate the presence, the Dominion would bring their wrath down on Skyrim. It was a truth the rebels failed to realize. He glanced along Helgen's familiar walls. The Legionnaire had made more than a few discreet trips up to the town a couple of years ago. Hadvar's uncle was never supportive of his choice to date Vilod, so Hadvar had made several "away on assignment" excuses to come to Helgen. He looked about the main plaza. Here was where the civil war would come to an end.

The prisoners' carts were parked by the town square and the rebels were starting to file out. Hadvar's superior officer handed him the list of prisoners and ordered him to take roll call. It gave Hadvar such delight to call Ulfric Stormcloak to the block. Not so much to call Ralof, his childhood friend, to the same fate.

The third name, Lokir, tried to make a break for it. Hadvar turned around as Lokir barreled past him, only to be shot down by Imperial archers. And then his life ground to a halt.

There, leaning on the rail just outside the inn, was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

She couldn't have been older than 20 or 21. Whatever skin showed from her grass-green dress was flawless, and her black hair waved as she chuckled at a joke the innkeeper's wife had made. Her verdant green eyes caught Hadvar staring, and she offered a confused wave. Hadvar took the hint, swallowed, and turned back to his work.

After all prisoners were called, Hadvar took his position near the executioner. He stole a glance at the black-haired woman again. This time, he caught _her_ staring. She politely averted her eyes and continued her conversation with the innkeeper's wife.

The execution seemed to be going well initially, but all Oblivion broke loose when they reached the second prisoner. As the executioner raised his axe, a big, black….thing landed on the watchman's tower. The force of the beast's landing forced many to the ground, and its roar knocked off any stragglers.

"Dragon!" someone cried.

The next few moments were a blur of running, dodging blasts of fire, and jumping over crumbling rubble. The next thing he knew, Hadvar was shouting at a boy named Hamming to run to safety. But the massive dragon landed right in front of the boy. Hamming was paralyzed by fear, as the dragon opened its mouth and drew a breath. Before the worst could happen, someone grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him toward safety. Hadvar realized it was the woman from before as she dove for cover from the dragon's fire. Her attempt landed her face-planted into the ground next to him.

"Are you okay, miss?" Hadvar asked as he knelt next to her. She lifted herself onto her forearms, spitting dirt out of her mouth.

"Yeah I'm fine." she grunted. He was happy she was okay, but he had more pressing matters to attend to. There was still a dragon ravaging the town.

"Gunner!" Hadvar called. "Take care of these two. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense." The Imperial soldier ran off. He didn't get too far, though.

"Hey!" A hand grabbed his forearm. Hadvar turned to see the woman holding his arm. "In case you haven't noticed, that's an Oblivion-damned dragon over there! D-r-a-g-o-n! Unless you can pull Akatosh out of your boot, the town's lost." Hadvar looked around the ruined town. As much as he hated to admit it, the woman was right. None of their attacks seemed to even bother the dragon, and the black beast's white-hot breath had melted almost every stone building. Even if they had miraculously driven off the dragon, Helgen would still be a pile of burning rubble.

The soldier was jolted from his reverie when he was slammed into the ground. Hadvar looked up and saw that the woman had shoved him out of the way of a stray fire blast.

"How about we stop staring into space and start getting out of here?" She held out her hand to help him up.

"You're right." Hadvar said as he took her hand. "There's a keep just north of here. If we can get inside, I'm pretty sure there's a discreet way out of this town." The woman dusted some dirt off her dress.

"Sounds great to me." She dusted off her dress again. "Let's go before we're dinner."

The next few minutes were a blur of dodging more blasts of fire, falling debris, and dragon. The woman had no weapon, but she kept up quite well.

The duo ran into three Stormcloak soldiers twenty paces from the keep. Hadvar recognized one of them and his face curled into a snarl.

"Ralof, you damned traitor!" the Imperial soldier shouted. "Out of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar." The Stormcloak named Ralof called back. "You're not stopping us this time!" Hadvar was about to jump at Ralof, but an elbow nudged him.

"Just a friendly reminder," the woman commented. She pointed towards the black beast. "Dragon. Hungry dragon." Hadvar sighed and ran into the keep.

The woman managed to slip through the keep's door just as the dragon released another burst of flame. She leaned against the door, panting.

"Looks like we made it." Hadvar breathed. "Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times?"

"Unless that was a mutant pony, yes." Hadvar pondered for a brief moment in which one was more probable: mutant pony or resurrected dragon. He glanced at his partner again. She was dressed in civilian clothes, clothes which didn't offer much protection in a fight. He needed to find her some armor if she was going to survive.

Hadvar looked around the room. They seemed to be in some sort of barracks. The north side of the room had beds. The other side was a sort of kitchen and armory. Hadvar spotted a chest in the armory section and proceeded to open it. Much to his luck, there was still some Imperial light armor inside.

"Here." He said, tossing the woman the armor. "Put this on." She caught the armor and proceeded to inspect it.

"Hmm." she told herself. "This should do…" She paused, catching Hadvar's stare. She cleared her throat. "Do you mind?"

"Huh?" Hadvar was confused. The woman gave him an impressive "you're-an-idiot" look.

"It might be fine to watch your fellow Legionnaires change, but you're in the presence of a _lady_." Hadvar took the hint and turned around.

"My apologies, Miss…?"

"Anali."

"Anali?"

"No, don't pronounce it like that." Anali gave a wince. "Ah-naal-ee." Hadvar awkwardly cleared his throat. The rustling of fabric and leather stopped. "Okay, I'm done over here. Where'd you go?"

"In the kitchen." Hadvar replied. "I'm looking for a salve or something for these burns." Anali's head poked out from the side of the bookcase.

"What on Nirn makes you think you'll find it in the _kitchen_ , of all places?" She asked incredulously.

"I don't know." Hadvar replied. "I just kind of look everywhere for everything, I guess." Anali rolled her eyes and adjusted the bracers of her armor.

"Well, you don't need a salve anyway." She said. "Let me see." Hadvar walked over to her and rolled up his sleeve. It was covered in gouging scrapes and expansive burns. Anali took one look at it and gently placed her soft hands on either side of the wound. She slowly pushed her hands over the wound. Restoration magic flowed from her fingertips and seeped into the burns. They were closed within seconds of exposure to the magic. Hadvar inspected his newly healed arm.

"I didn't know you could use magic." He said. Anali shrugged.

"I learned it while I was in the Synod." She replied. "It's a useful skill to learn."

"I'm assuming you're not as skeptical of its uses as the Nords are."

"That's because I'm an Imperial, probably."

"Well, anyway, thanks."

"No problem." Anali walked to the gate on the far side of the room and plucked two iron swords from a nearby rack. "So," she said, fastening both blades to her belt. "Are we ready to go?"

Over the course of traveling the keep, Hadvar quickly noticed he and Anali worked well as a team. He tended to charge blindly into battle. She preferred to use her intelligence and speed to handle things from a distance. He was the brawn, and she was the brains.

As they fought through Stormcloaks to reach the exit, Hadvar discovered that not only could Anali fight, but she could fight with a variety of weapons. Her default weapon was the two swords she dual wielded. If the enemy was at a distance, Anali would use either fire magic or a bow, whichever the opponent was weaker to. Hadvar asked her after the third skirmish where she had learned to fight like that. Anali replied that she'd picked up bits and pieces throughout her time living in Cyrodiil.

"Is that where you're from?" Hadvar asked.

"Yeah." She replied. "I have a place in Cyrodiil, but came to Skyrim to visit my sister. I apparently picked the wrong town to rest in."

"You can say that again." Hadvar smirked.

"I apparently picked the wrong town to rest in." Anali repeated, grinning from ear to ear. She seemed to like making jokes like that. "You didn't seem to have much better judgment."

"Well it's not like General Tullius could foresee a dragon attack."

"True. I guess the old codger was just unlucky."

"Old codger?" Hadvar winced.

"What, he doesn't come across like that to you?" Anali looked back at him.

"Of course not! He's the general of the Imperial Legion!"

"He's not even a _tiny_ bit old to you?"

Hadvar crossed his arms as they walked. "I have nothing but respect for General Tullius." He said.

"That's not what I-you know what? Never mind." Anali sighed. "How about we focus on how to get out of here _alive_?"

Once the duo finally escaped Helgen, Anali and Hadvar celebrated with a hug. Yet it ended in an awkward tackle when Hadvar pushed them out of the dragon's line of sight.

"How did I not see that?" Anali wondered aloud. "It's a huge black dragon! _How did I not see that!?_ "

"I don't know," Hadvar replied. "I guess you were too excited to see the sunlight."

The two of them disentangled from each other. After looking around to gain their bearings, Hadvar proposed a solution.

"Riverwood's not far from here." He said. "Why don't we rest up at my uncle's place there and figure out our game plan?" Anali thought for a moment.

"I was headed for Falkreath." She replied, fixing her collar. "While I'd love to meet this wacky uncle of yours, my sister will be worried sick about me if she isn't already. I'd best be on my way."

"All right." Hadvar said, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. "I'll walk with you, at least until we have to part ways."

"No way." Anali breathed. "What did you do then?" They had been traveling for over an hour and there hadn't been a dry bit in conversation.

"There wasn't much else I could do." Hadvar replied. "My pesky cousin Dorthe and her friend Frodnar had tied me to the inside of the barrel by the time I woke up. Only my legs were free, so I could only waddle around in the barrel. I tried to get through the door to the house, but I couldn't fit. And I haven't touched any ale since."

Anali burst out laughing. "So tell me, just how awkward was it walking around town in a barrel?"

"About as awkward as being seen bathing."

"That's ah… that's pretty embarrassing."

"You'd better believe it was."

"And definitely not the worst thing that's ever happened to you." Hadvar was taken aback. Yes, Anali had prompted what the worst thing was before, and he responded with the barrel story. He thought he'd efficiently dodged the question.

"Come on." Anali snapped him out of his reverie. "You're a _soldier_." She pointed to the Helgen ruins behind them. "We literally just survived the first dragon attack in eons. Do you understand how _crazy_ that is? And you're telling me the worst thing that's happened to you was when your cousin tied you to the inside of a _barrel_? I'm calling shenanigans."

"My superior officer was there!"

Anali ignored his comment. "Tell you what-I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." Hadvar was about to reply when he realized where they were.

"This is your stop." He said. "Falkreath is that way-" he pointed to the forest, "so we'll have to pick this up another time." Anali glanced warily at him before beginning to walk away.

"We're not done here." She called over her shoulder. "We'll pick this up when I join the Legion."

"Of course!" Hadvar called back. "I'll see you in Solitude!" So he had persuaded her to join up. Good. The Legion could use more free-form fighters like her.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself as he walked the rest of the way to Riverwood. No. It was not because he just wanted an excuse to see her again.

* * *

Hadvar did see Anali again. A month later, he was assigned to the platoon sent to retrieve the Jagged Crown in Korvanjund. His heart leapt when the saw the familiar black-haired woman appear behind Legate Rikke. As the rest of the platoon waited for Legate Rikke to be briefed, Hadvar gave Anali a hug.

"Well, look who it is!" He said. "I'm glad you decided to join us. The Stormcloaks don't stand a chance now!" Anali chuckled.

"Yeah, don't get your panties in a wad." She replied, playfully punching him in the arm. "There's only so much one can do, but with two…"

"Double the dead Stormcloaks." Hadvar finished, grinning.

"It's good to be here." Anali nodded.

"I'm glad you'll be in there with me." Hadvar said. "I don't like the looks of this ruin. And I'm not talking about the Stormcloaks..."

"So… You're just talking about the super sketchy architecture? Aw, do you need a teddy bear?" Hadvar reddened.

"N-no," he stammered. "You know what I mean, Anali." She waved him off, smiling.

"Of course I know what you mean." Anali said. "I'm just teasing you." She looked towards Korvanjund. "Yeah, something's definitely up with that ruin. What do you say we watch each other's backs?"

"Deal." Hadvar glanced a look at Anali's waist. She had changed swords since the last time he saw her.

"Those are new." Hadvar commented, pointing at them.

"Oh, yeah." Anali replied, drawing an orange blade from her hip. "I'm not stuck with those flimsy iron things we found in Helgen. Now I've got some real steel to back me up. But this Dwarven one," she gestured to the orange sword in her hands, "is my favorite. Beirand crafted it specially for me. He even inscribed my initials on it." Hadvar took a closer look. Sure enough, the letters AC were carved into the Dwarven metal just below the hilt.

"Fall in!" Legate Rikke barked. The platoon quit chatting and snapped into line. Anali took her place beside Hadvar and flashed him a smile. They were partners again. Legate Rikke paced back and forth in front of the troops.

"Listen up, soldiers!" She called to her troops. "Ulfric the Pretender wants the Jagged Crown, but we're not going to let him have it. General Tullius has sent us to retrieve that crown before Ulfric's men do. Stormcloaks have already camped out at the ruin. It's our job to dispatch them and retrieve the crown. The Stormcloaks don't know we're here yet, so we have the element of surprise. Move out! Let's hit them hard before they know we're here." Legate Rikke drew her sword and headed towards the tomb. Anali and Hadvar glanced at each other again.

"Here we go." Anali said as she drew her bow. "Here's hoping there aren't too many Stormcloaks or creepy draugr in there."

"Here's hoping." Hadvar seconded as he unsheathed his sword.

There were a good eight Stormcloaks patrolling the entrance of Korvanjund. Hadvar was placed in the front lines of the Legion's strike force, and Anali was behind him in a support role. It didn't take long for the Stormcloaks to spot the oncoming Imperials. Soon the ruin was host to a civil war skirmish.

Hadvar cut a Stormcloak to the ground and raised his shield to block another's warhammer before it connected with his head. A quick stab from beneath the shield landed Hadvar's sword in the rebel's stomach and the Stormcloak dropped to the ground. A third rebel charged, only to be shot down by a familiar arrow.

"Why don'tcha keep your head up for once?" Anali called as she nocked another arrow. The rest of the troop dispatched four more Stormcloaks. The last one by the entrance went up in a burst of flame, courtesy of Anali.

"Good work." Legate Rikke said as the Legion troop gathered in front of the doors. "They didn't know what hit them. But don't underestimate the Stormcloaks. Many are ex-Legion. They may be traitors, but they know how to fight. Come on. Let's show them what real soldiers look like." The troop of eight went inside the ruin. No sooner had they taken five steps inside Legate Rikke held out her fist, signaling a halt. A small force of rebels stood in the entrance chamber, watching the flames of a campfire. The Legion's troop approached quietly at a crawl, until Legate Rikke gave the signal to strike. Within minutes, the Stormcloak force was eradicated. The Legion's troop pressed on, moving from one chamber to the next.

"Phew." Anali said as they stopped for a quick break. "Things seem to be going our way."

"Well it's certainly not going theirs." Hadvar said as he took a swig of water from a deerskin and passed it to Anali. She drank a bit and passed it back to him.

"How are you holding up?" Anali asked. "Any wounds I should know about?"

"I'm fine." Hadvar replied. "What about you? Are you hurt?" Anali shook her head.

"Nope." She said. "Still in one piece."

After a bit more time resting, Legate Rikke gave the order to move out again. It wasn't long until the force came to a suspicious chamber. One smaller room had a short hallway leading into a much larger antechamber, complete with raised walkways surrounding the lower level.

"I don't like the looks of this." Legate Rikke said as she examined the doorway. "Perfect spot for an ambush. Ten to one they're just waiting for us on the other side."

"But there isn't any other way through, Legate." A soldier spoke up.

"Patience." Legate Rikke responded. "The Legion always finds a way. I'd rather take a moment and look around than walk blindly into an ambush." Her eyes scanned the force. "Anali." She called.

"Yes, ma'am?" Anali's voice was crisp.

"See if you can find another way through. We'll charge in to help as soon as we hear fighting."

"Yes, ma'am."

Hadvar couldn't believe his ears. Legate Rikke was sending Anali to scout out an ambush by herself? What if the rest of the force didn't come in time? Anali wore the lightest armor of the force. There's no way she could survive against several Stormcloaks alone. Hadvar's concern was apparently evident, as before he knew it Anali was talking into his ear.

"Don't worry." She whispered. "I'll be fine. You stay here and do as you're told." With that, Anali headed back up the stairs and jogged through a hall on the second floor. And then there was silence.

The rest of the force waited. And waited. And waited. As the seconds passed into minutes, Hadvar's mind raced. Were there any Stormcloaks at all over there? Were they hiding? Did they slit Anali's throat before she could cry out?

Sound finally came in the form of a deafening explosion. The force rushed in to assess the situation. The entire left side of the walkway was engulfed in flames. Burning Stormcloaks littered the walkway. Fearing the worst, Hadvar's eyes searched the upper level, desperate to find Anali's figure. He found her two swords engaged in fierce combat with two Stormcloaks on either side of her. Hadvar was on the walkway in a flash, charging at the closest offending Stormcloak with a fearsome battle cry. The Legionnaires shield knocked the rebel to the ground, and Anali used her newly freed hand to add leverage to the other Stormcloak's weapon lock. Anali and Hadvar's backs touched, protecting each other's blind spots. Anali broke the lock by sliding out from under the battleaxe's trajectory. The Stormcloak's inertia forced him to stumble forward, giving Anali a wide-open shot at the back of his neck. She took it.

Hadvar made to execute a shield bash, but the rebel on his side dodged the strike. The Stormcloak retaliated with a swing from his mace, but his weapon only met Hadvar's shield. Hadvar tried to strike with his sword, but ended up with the same fate. With both sword and shield preoccupied, Hadvar went with what he thought was the next best option.

He brazenly head-butted the rebel in the face.

The edge of his helmet connected with the base of the rebel's nose. The Stormcloak staggered backwards from the force of the blow, and Hadvar took the opportunity to drive his sword through the rebel's chest.

The rest of the straggling Stormcloaks that weren't caught in the fire blast were quickly dispatched by the rest of the force. Legate Rikke wasted no time in locating Anali and marched up to her.

"We heard an explosion." Legate Rikke snapped. "What on Nirn happened?"

"Oh, that." Anali replied, sheathing her swords. "Well, the Stormcloaks didn't notice me entering the chamber. So I took a quick look around, and noticed the majority of them were standing in a puddle of oil. I looked up and saw that a fire pot was hanging above them, so I shot an arrow at that. You, uh… heard the rest, ma'am." Legate Rikke crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well," the legate said. "I suppose that's one mystery solved. Come on. Let's move out." Legate Rikke walked away.

"She seemed abrasive." Anali said, turning back to Hadvar. "Is she mad at me or something?"

"I think the legate's always like that." Hadvar replied. "You get used to it."

"Anali! Hadvar!" Legate Rikke barked, standing by some strange, circular door with Nordic carvings.

"Guess that's our cue to go." Hadvar said, walking towards the superior officer.

"I need you two to find a way past this door." Legate Rikke said when Anali and Hadvar rejoined the group. "I'll be checking out these carvings on the wall. Let me know if you find something." The legate walked off. Hadvar turned to Anali.

"Any bright ideas?" He asked her. Anali narrowed her eyes, walking closer to the door. Her hand traced three indentations in the center of the door.

"It's as if something fits in here…" Anali mumbled to herself. She turned back to Hadvar. See if you can find any object with three small prongs." She told him. Hadvar glanced around. There wasn't much in the Hall of Stories, save two dead Stormcloaks lit by a torch. Hadvar took a closer look. The Legion hadn't killed these two… they were dead before the Legion got here. He took a closer look at their wounds. Frost burns were evident, as well as battleaxe gashes and warhammer dents. These wounds weren't made by Legionnaires. Hadvar peered closer. There was something odd next to one of the Stormcloaks He picked it up.

"Is this some sort of claw?" He asked, incredulous. Anali turned around. She took the ebony object in her hands. Anali looked back at the door.

"It looks like it…" Her voice trailed off when she saw the three claws on the black ornament. Hadvar saw what she thought and walked over to the door. He inserted the claw into the indentations and turned it a bit. Nothing happened.

"Well," Anali said. "We're on the right track. It's the claw that fits." She joined him at the door. "There must be something we're missing…" Anali took the claw back. She turned it over and inspected the symbols on the ornament's underside. "These symbols here don't match the ones on the door." She ran her hand over the surface of the door. Anali's hand caught on the lip of one of the symbols and the arc underneath it shifted slightly. Hadvar watched as Anali moved the symbols on the door to match the ones on the claw. She reinserted the ornament and turned the claw. The door sank into the ground.

"Huh." Anali said to herself. "That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"Good job." Legate Rikke said as she came up to them. "Tell you what- you can keep that claw as a reward."

"Well, thank you ma'am." Anali said, looking over the claw.

After spelunking for a bit once the door opened, the force finally found the fabled Jagged Crown. They had lost one or two men in the process, but Anali and Hadvar pulled through to the end. They protected each other throughout the battle. Once the Jagged Crown was finally in the Legion's possession, Legate Rikke ordered Anali to carry the crown to General Tullius, since she was the fastest of the force. Hadvar walked with her until the entrance of Korvanjund.

"So…" Hadvar said. "You're leaving us?"

"I guess so." Anali replied. "I wasn't officially part of this force. General Tullius just sent me here as an auxiliary. He'll probably want me somewhere else now."

"Well, take care of yourself, all right?" Hadvar put his hands on his hips.

"Yeah. You too."

"No I mean it Anali. Don't go running into any more ambushes. Go around instead."

"And I mean it too. Don't go head butting any more Stormcloaks. Try a sword."

* * *

It actually wasn't long before Hadvar saw Anali again. It was when Hadvar's regiment was stationed to Whiterun after Jarl Balgruuf finally accepted Imperial aid in the imminent Stormcloak invasion.

The platoon leadership had changed hands from Legate Rikke to Legate Cipius once it returned to Solitude, in preparation for Whiterun's garrison. General Tullius had been pushing to garrison troops in Whiterun for a while. He had been pooling platoon after platoon and threw them all under Legate Cipius' command.

Given the huge influx of soldiers into Whiterun, the barracks and Dragonsreach couldn't house all of them. Most of the Legionnaires ended up setting up camp outside Whiterun's walls, sharing tents. Hadvar was vainly trying to cook a rabbit's leg for a snack when he met his bunkmate.

"Hey." a burly Nord-about Hadvar's build-clad in Imperial heavy armor lumbered up to Hadvar's tent. "You're Hadvar, right?"

"That's me." Hadvar said, standing from his place at the fire pit. The Nord removed his helmet and shook his greasy blonde hair into the wind.

"Looks like I'm your bunkmate. I'm Quintus. Great to meet you." The Nord extended his hand in friendship, and Hadvar took it. "Know any girls you can hook me up with?" Hadvar blinked.

"Uh," Hadvar said, scratching his head. "Not really, man. There's not too many girls in the Legion."

"Oh, really?" A familiar voice sounded behind Hadvar. A feminine hand touched his shoulder. "Then what am I?" Hadvar spun around. It was Anali.

"Anali!" Hadvar squeaked, startled. "Uh, nice to see you here…" His timid response earned him a raised eyebrow from Anali. Quintus whooped.

"Wow!" he said. "You sure turn up nice ones! I need to hang around you from now on!" Quintus turned to Anali. "Hey, baby." he said. "Is there anything a strong Nord man can do for you this fine day?" Anali raised the other eyebrow, crossing her arms.

"Oh, there's plenty of things." Anali said. Hadvar couldn't believe this was happening. "But there doesn't seem to be any strong Nord men around. Such a shame." Quintus huffed.

"Well then." He said. "Fiery one, eh?" Hadvar had heard enough.

"Okay okay." He said, positioning himself between Anali and Quintus. "That's enough of that. She said no."

"I know." Quintus replied, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "I wasn't going anywhere further." Anali moved to examine the half-charred rabbit.

"You guys aren't going to try to eat that, are you?" She asked. Hadvar looked at her.

"What's wrong with it?" He replied. She held up the burnt meat.

"How about-I don't know-the whole thing? Did you even salt the meat?"

"Ummm… no?" Anali sighed.

"Okay fine. Wait right here, I'll go get you some real food." Anali trotted off towards her own campsite, leaving the two boys to themselves.

"So," Quintus said as they sat in front of the fire. "You and her?" Hadvar reddened.

"Uh," he said. "Nope. Not at all. Not in the slightest."

"It's okay, man." Quintus said. "I get it." He winked. Hadvar sighed. "This battle is supposed to be a doozy. If you don't make a move now, you may never get the chance."

"Come on, man." Hadvar protested. "Don't talk like that." Quintus shrugged.

"It's the truth." He replied. "Whiterun is strategically vital if either side wants to win this war. Ulfric just proved his own strength. Now he wants to open the war with an even more ferocious force-The Stormcloaks. See where I'm going?"

"Doom and gloom." Anali creeped up from behind the boys. "That's where you're going with this." She tossed the boys a rabbit leg each, then sat down in front of the fire with her own. "Why's that a bad thing? Hadvar and I have fought dragons. Stormcloaks should be a complete breeze."

"This won't be like Korvanjund." Hadvar said. "There won't be a few intermittent Stormcloaks here and there. We're talking waves upon waves of enemies barreling straight at us." Anali shrugged.

"Bah." She said. "Let them come. "It'll be interesting."

* * *

The next few days were filled with tense waiting. Wake up, go on watch, look for anything that dares to move, figure out if it's wearing blue, eat lunch, train, eat dinner, go patrol some more, and then bed. A simple rustle in the bushes had the Legionnaires on alert. As the days passed, the camp grew more and more restless.

On the eve the Legion had received the approaching Stormcloaks' whereabouts, Hadvar couldn't find Anali anywhere. He had checked her campsite, his campsite, inside Whiterun, Dragonsreach, the walls, and the stables. No one had seen her, or knew where she had gone.

He had finally found her near the river outside Honningbrew Meadery.

She was sitting on the riverbank, watching the fish swim by. Her Dwarven sword gleamed in the sunset. If Hadvar had a way to capture that image and hold onto it forever, he would.

"Hey." Hadvar said as he walked up to Anali. She turned around.

"Hey," she called back. "What are you doing here? Isn't it your watch?"

"I was looking for you." he replied. "You seemed to have vanished out of thin air."

"Me?" Anali asked, incredulous. "Vanish? No. I can't sneak around a troll for the life of me." Hadvar smirked as he sat down next to her.

"We'll have to try that out sometime." He said.

"Yeah, no." Anali replied. "I vote we _don't_ do that." Hadvar laughed. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the first peace they've had since arriving in Whiterun.

"So," Hadvar finally said, turning back to Anali. "Shall we address the mammoth in the room?" Anali blinked slowly, staring at him.

"Well," she replied. "Given that we're not _actually_ in a room per se, and instead sitting in the mammoth's natural habitat… Bah, whatever. What is this theoretical mammoth in the room?"

"Why'd you run away out here?"

"Oh." Anali said. "That." She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess the camp just got to me."

"How so?"

"...You were right." Anali said after a moment of silence. "This is definitely going to be the hardest fight we've had yet. I'm… trying to figure out how to live through it."

"Hey." Hadvar replied. "Your training will kick in. Don't worry, you'll know what to do."

"That's not what I mean." Anali said. "Even if I know what I'm doing, even if I find a way to survive, how do I live with myself afterwards? I'd have taken hundreds of lives. And what if i lose allies? Friends? What if I lose you? How do I live with myself after that?" Hadvar placed his hands on her shoulders and looked Anali in the eye.

"You're not going to lose me," Hadvar said as he placed a kiss on Anali's lips. "Because I've got your back. Always."

"I guess we can't pretend we're just friends anymore, huh?" Anali said as he pulled back. Hadvar chuckled.

"No." He replied. "I guess not." In truth, they were never friends to begin with. They were partners-in both love and war-since the moment they teamed up against the dragon at Helgen. A heavy moment passed.

"You never told me what the worst thing that happened to you was." Anali said after a while. Hadvar huffed.

"I thought you forgot about that." He said.

"Nope." Anali said, grinning. "There's a lot of things I don't forget. This is one of them. We're just going to sit here all night until you crack open."

"It's kind of a long story."

"We've got time. It's only what, seven-thirty?"

"Fine." Hadvar sighed. "My father used to be a good man. He was a Legionnaire, but had really changed after his last tour. He became an alcoholic and started beating me when I was a kid. My mother had spent her time fantasizing about the day he'd come back from tour, and didn't want to believe what he had become. So she turned a blind eye, and never did anything about it. So yeah, that's the worst thing that happened to me. My drunk father beating me to bits."

"You said he was with the Legion." Anali said. "And you're a Legionnaire now."

"My father was a good man before his last tour, and he'd been in the Legion a while beforehand. I was looking for more structure, and found it here. Besides, this war is bigger than the squabbles I had with my father. I need to do my part."

"Well," Anali said. "You never have to worry about something like that again." She placed a kiss on his lips. "Because I've got your back. Always."

They never went back to the camp that night.

* * *

The Stormcloaks were knocking on Whiterun's door a few days later. It was early morning, about 5:00 AM. Hadvar and Anali stepped out of Hadvar's tent to find the first volley of fireballs flying past them. The camp was chaos in minutes. The war horn sounded as soldiers ran to their positions. The pair exchanged a quick peck and ran to their own positions-Anali to the wall and Hadvar to the vanguard.

"You ready for this, man?" Quintus said as he took his place beside Hadvar. Hadvar huffed.

"As ready as I'll ever be." He replied. Hadvar ducked under a flying fireball. "Pleasant weather for a war, no?"

"They're here!" A Legionnaire on the wall shouted. "Coming in from the farms!"

"Protect the barricade at all costs!" Legate Rikke shouted. The Stormcloak vanguard reached the stables, battleaxes drawn. "Archers!" Legate Rikke commanded. "Fire at will!"

The first volley flew out in a straight line, then the arrows turned to a rain of death. The volleys thinned out some of the oncoming Stormcloaks, but those who weren't hit reached the blockade. They were tearing through the wood in minutes.

"Vanguard!" Legate Rikke shouted. "Phalanx formation!"

The vanguard barely had enough time to line up their shields before the Stormcloaks were crashing into them. The line took the force of the impact, then started pushing back. Slowly but surely, the phalanx forced the Stormcloak warriors back into the archers' line of sight. The Imperial vanguard held the Stormcloaks in place while the archers rained arrows from above. All seemed to be going well. That is, until a flaming boulder crashed into the bottom of the gate roof. The boulder fell on top of the Imperial vanguard, breaking the shield line. The Stormcloaks rushed through the injured vanguard and into the auxiliary lines behind them.

The semi-ordered situation had turned to utter chaos. The Imperial Legion's trademark lines had turned to a mess of Stormcloak and Legionnaire. Everyone was fighting everyone.

Hadvar recovered from the stagger from the fireball. He looked over and found Quintus, his leg trapped under the flaming boulder. Hadvar didn't think twice. He ran over to the boulder and began to push. The huge rock was still hot, but Hadvar ignored the searing pain in his hands. He saw a Stormcloak charge at him, only to receive an arrow in between the eyes. Hadvar looked up and saw Anali nock another arrow. With one final heave, the boulder finally rolled off of Quintus' leg. Hadvar helped his friend up and led him to the health tent. When he turned around, Hadvar saw Stormcloaks swarming in through the wide-open gateway. He didn't know what to do. So he did the first thing that came to mind.

He ducked his head and charged.

Hadvar blasted through the old barricade and shoved his sword through a Stormcloak's gullet. He bashed his shield into another's forehead. One...two...three...four Stormcloaks went down in a matter of three seconds. Hadvar was a tank, destroying rebel after rebel. That is, until he was knocked to the side and the world started spinning. Hadvar shook his head and looked up in time to see the Stormcloak commander raise his warhammer for another strike. He was about to bring down the blow when he erupted in a burst of flame.

Anali's blurry form was there in seconds, her Dwarven sword flashing through rebels while she handled magic in her other hand. Stormcloaks on her left would explode in flame while she cut through the ones on her right. Hadvar felt someone pull him back towards the health tent while Anali tried to force the Stormcloak swarm into a retreating position. She managed to get the majority of them in front of her when she threw a rune spell between the swarm and herself. The rune expanded into a wall of fire as Anali backed away with the clear intent of retreating. The Stormcloaks didn't seem to want to cross the wall of fire and continue their offensive, and Hadvar thought for a moment Anali had successfully stopped their advancement. That is, until a Stormcloak general rushed through her fire. Hadvar realized that the flame wall wasn't really a wall-it was a bluff, a bluff that the Stormcloaks had called. The last thing Hadvar saw was the Stormcloak force charging Anali before he blacked out.

* * *

Hadvar awoke to the ceiling of the Temple of Kynareth. He turned his head to see that he was lying in a bed, and that Anali was leaning in a chair next to him-arms crossed and eyes closed. Hadvar tried to call out to her, but only coughs made it out of his throat. Without even opening her eyes, Anali placed her hand on his forehead and casted a healing spell. She finally looked over to the nightstand nearby and picked up a glass of water. After she helped him have a drink, Hadvar could finally speak.

"You're alive." He croaked. Anali glared daggers at him.

"What _else_ is new?" Her humorless voice held a hint of anger. "You, on the other hand, are a _piece of work_." Anali's arms were crossed again. Hadvar was confused.

"What did I do?" he asked. He was rewarded with a whack to the shoulder.

"What did you _do_?" Anali practically yelled at him. "Where do I even _begin_? Touching a burning boulder with your bare hands? Rushing into enemy lines by yourself? Are you _stupid_?"

Hadvar was at a loss for words. Might have something to do with the headache.

"That was absolutely unacceptable!" Anali continued her verbal rampage. "You were rash, reckless, stupid… Definitely stupid. Did I mention stupid? I thought..." Anali stopped mid sentence and rubbed her temples. "Forget it. I'm going outside. I need to get out of this room." She left through the main door, slamming it shut behind her. Hadvar turned his head to see classic Quintus sitting on the bed opposite him, a grin on his face.

"Well, that was a wake-up call if I ever saw one." Quintus said. "They say Oblivion hath no fury like a woman's scorn. How are you feeling, man?" Hadvar huffed.

"Like I was hit by a dragon." He said. "And then Shouted by said dragon." Quintus laughed.

"That sounds about right." He said. "Go easy on Anali, though. She's been sitting in that chair for the past 14 hours. I don't she's eaten or slept since the battle began yesterday." Hadvar looked at his friend.

"She's been sitting here the whole time?" He asked. Quintus nodded.

"Yeah, man." He replied. "She was really worried about you. I've never seen her that anxious before. Not even before the battle began. She called you 'selfish' a number of times."

Hadvar's eyes widened. Now it all made sense. " _What if I lose you? How do I live with myself after that?_ " Anali's words from a few nights ago rang in his head. He _was_ being selfish. He let the heat of battle get to him without considering how Anali would feel about his actions. He'd have to find her and sort things out with her once she'd calmed down. Hadvar turned back to Quintus.

"I take it we won, at least?"

* * *

After the Battle for Whiterun, the Legion started to separate Hadvar and Anali. The promotions they had earned placed them in different branches of the Legion. Hadvar started out with a command position with a small scouting force, ambushing Stormcloak supplies. Anali was enlisted with a troop of shock troopers called Troop IX, focusing in hit-and-run tactics against the Stormcloaks. They both still kept up with each other, syncing up their military leaves and writing letters to each other. As time passed, Hadvar rose through the ranks to command Fort Greymoor, which was a fact Anali often teased him about.

" _You?_ " She'd say. " _Commanding? We can kiss that fort good-bye. ...Congrats, by the way._ "

They cherished every moment they had together, since they seemed few and far between. Until the inevitable happened.

The day was the 21st of Frostfall. One of Hadvar's men told him some soldiers were waiting for him outside the fort. Hadvar went outside to find two grave Imperial scouts facing him, helmets in their hands. One held an orange sword in its scabbard. Their message was frank.

"Troop IX has been ambushed by a Stormcloak force while escorting a wagon." The other scout said. "There were no survivors."

Terrified, Hadvar grabbed the sword from the scout. With the worst premonition, he unsheathed the Dwarven sword enough to look at its hilt. The initials AC were inscribed on the base of the blade. It confirmed Hadvar's fears.

Anali Caerellia was dead.


	2. Nightingale Rising

**AN: Hi again! I just want to say a quick thanks to everybody who reviewed/followed/favorited/ghosted the last chapter. You all made my week. Here's the next chapter like I promised-the next one will be out next week at the same time!**

* * *

All was quiet. Darkness blanketed the vacant streets of Whiterun. A guard walked along the walls, his eyes scanning the pavement for anything suspicious. He found none. Satisfied, the guard checked the time and found it was a bit after midnight. His shift was almost over. Figuring it wouldn't hurt if he ended his shift a little early, the guard headed toward the barracks, leaving nothing but a shadow on the rooftops.

The shadow moved.

The figure bolted from the wall to Warmaiden's smelter. Finding no one around, the figure dashed along the wall, avoiding the routes the guards commonly patrolled. The figure had reached the steps past the marketplace without incident.

"A few septims is all I ask…" a mumble sounded. The shadow froze. _The beggar,_ the figure thought. _I forgot about Brenuin. He doesn't have a place to sleep, so he roams the city all night._ The footsteps were getting louder. The shadow leaned against the wall, blending into the shadows once more. Brenuin passed by unassumingly. The silhouette peeked out from around the corner and saw light coming toward the Cloud District's central square. _A guard,_ the shadow thought. _Great. He'll be coming this way, and I don't have the time to wait for him to leave._ Sure enough, a guard did pass by- but the shadow was long gone by then. The figure was nothing more than an invisible warp in the air, already climbing the steps to Jorrvaskr. The figure swept around to the back of the mead hall, and tried the back door. It was open. With a quick prayer to Nocturnal for luck, the thief cracked the door open and slipped inside.

The thief didn't have to worry. Few Companions were in the main hall- and the ones that were were busy watching two apprentice Companions fistfight. _A perfect distraction,_ the thief thought. _And it's not even my birthday._

With calculated stealth, the thief ducked into the mead hall's living quarters and set to work. The thief was in and out in less than fifteen minutes, carrying anything and everything valuable in Jorrvaskr. Before the thief left the mead hall, the thief nailed a piece of parchment to the wall with a black arrow. The thief was gone as quietly as the figure had come.

* * *

Hadvar woke with the roosters they kept in the fort. He hated those things. They never seemed to understand the concept of "dawn," instead opting to crow well beforehand. Trying to roll over and go back to sleep was impossible, as Hadvar would only have nightmares. So he got out of bed, got dressed, and spent the early hours wandering around the Fort Greymoor.

It had been four years since Alduin was defeated at the hands of the Last Dragonborn, Balthazar. The true Nord had refused to take sides in the civil war, instead brokering a truce between the warring factions. The cease-fire didn't last long-no sooner had Skyrim received word that Alduin was no more had the Stormcloaks resumed their offensives.

Four years had passed since the Battle for Whiterun and Anali's death. It took a long time to cope with her passing, and much mead was involved in his efforts. He still kept her sword locked safely away in a display case in his quarters.

Hadvar looked at the sky and noted it was finally civilized hours. Whiterun's marketplace should be bustling by now, and he had some errands to run. The commander headed back to the fort's main briefing room, and found his tactician, Tacitus, busying himself in the room. In Hadvar's mind, Tacitus was no more than a boy. But even at eighteen years of age, Tacitus possessed a clever mind, easily figuring out the enemy's weak points. It reminded Hadvar of Anali.

"Sir." Tacitus saluted once he noticed his superior's presence.

"At ease," Hadvar barely noticed his response. It simply came out automatically after years of commanding. Tacitus ceased his salute.

"I thought you'd be in Whiterun by now." He said. "Didn't you have some errands to run?"

"I was just about to head out," Hadvar said, looking around. "Have you seen a mammoth's tusk anywhere?" Tacitus nodded.

"You left it by the stables." Tacitus replied. "By your horse, I believe."

"Thanks." Hadvar said, giving a grateful nod. "I'll be on my way then."

* * *

Hadvar arrived in Whiterun an hour or two later. He parked his horse at the Whiterun stables, nodded at the guards, and went inside. He walked past Warmaidens and up to the marketplace square in front of the Bannered Mare. Hadvar's eyes scanned the crowd… and found what they were looking for.

"Ysolda!" Hadvar called, running up to her. The Nord woman turned and saw him, smiling.

"Hadvar!" Ysolda said. "I didn't think you would be in town so early." They exchanged a peck on the lips.

"I wanted to see you." Hadvar replied. "Plus, I have something for you…." He held out the mammoth's tusk. Ysolda nearly squealed in delight.

"You found one for me!" She cried. "I didn't think it was possible, what with mammoths being so hard to hunt and all…" Hadvar shrugged, grinning.

"It was nothing." He replied. "Honest. Didn't take me long at all."

"Thank you thank you thank you!" Ysolda said, giving Hadvar a big hug. "This is a huge help! The Khajiit caravans will pay huge for this!"

Hadvar was about to reply when one of the Companions came barreling down the steps, weapon in hand.

"Where is he?" Farkas shouted, brandishing his greatsword. "I'll kill the bastard where he stands!"

"Do you really believe he'd still be around, ice brain?" Another voice sounded behind him. It was Aela. "Of course he'd be long gone by now." Farkas grumbled angrily. The two Companions made their way through the marketplace.

"What happened?" Hadvar asked once they got close enough to him.

"We were robbed blind last night." Aela snorted. "That blasted thief took literally everything of value right from under our noses. He even made off with the Harbinger's unusual gem."

"Any idea who might have done it?" Hadvar asked, curious. Aela shoved a crumpled piece of parchment into his hands and moved on. Hadvar unraveled the parchment and stared at the black icon.

It was a symbol of a blackbird, with its wings reaching towards the full moon.

"Isn't that the symbol of the Nightingale?" Ysolda wondered, peering over Hadvar's shoulder.

"Looks like it." Hadvar replied. "If that's the case, then the Companions will never find their thief."

The Nightingale has reigned as Skyrim's best thief in ages for the past two years. The thief works in the dead of night, concealed within the darkness. Pulling off some of the most dangerous and ludicrous heists imaginable in a single night, no one has seen the thief aside from the occasional blur of black in the corner. No trap is too clever, no lock is too hard for the fabled Nightingale to bypass. The thief leaves the same callsign at the scene of the crime- a blackbird and a full moon nailed to the wall with an ebony arrow. Few believe the Nightingale can be caught, and fewer are willing to try. If homeowners see this sign, there's a good chance they will never see their precious belongings again.

* * *

The Nightingale rode along, well out of Whiterun Hold and halfway to Riften. Delvin Mallory's bedlam job specified for 500 gold's worth of stolen goods, but why stop there? A sack containing enough stolen items for 2,000 gold sat on the horse's saddle. _Delvin thought I could only take 500 gold from a hold in four hour's time?_ The Nightingale thought. _Pah. What does he think I am, an amateur?_

A blur of blue movement caught the Nightingale's eye. The thief dismounted and snuck behind a rock, waiting for the Stormcloak patrol to pass by. The Nightingale quickly discovered the three Stormcloaks weren't just passing by on the road, they were heading to an unknown campsite. Curious, the Nightingale decided to tail the scouts, finding their heavily armored camp. The Nightingale counted at least eight patrolling guards. The thief needed a distraction in order to infiltrate. The master thief vanished in a heartbeat.

Moments later, two frost trolls descended on the camp.

The Nightingale slipped into the commander's tent during the confusion and started scavenging. The thief came across a peculiar piece of parchment and gazed at it. Realization clicked in the thief's head. All the Nightingale thought about was:

 _The Stormcloaks can't have this._


	3. Ambush

**AN: Hi again! Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, favorited, followed, and ghosted so far. Here is the third chapter of Song of the Nightingale, as promised. Chapter 4 should be up on the site next Sunday at 9pm EST. Enjoy!**

* * *

Hadvar once again woke up before dawn (damn roosters) and was at breakfast before the civilized hours. The soldiers were left for themselves in terms of food and housekeeping since their maid, Agnis, met an unfortunate end. It was a mystery Hadvar believed would never be solved. His men had found the maid lying in bed with her throat slit open. Hadvar knew the men had complaints with the old hag, but he never believed any one of them would kill her. Besides, the woman was assassinated in her sleep. None of Hadvar's men possessed the sneak skill to creep up on someone like that.

But nonetheless, it made Hadvar fix his own breakfast, which was something he had little skill with. The only food item Hadvar knew how to make was water. He rummaged through the fort's pantry. There theoretically were enough ingredients to make a vegetable soup, but he only had a scrap of a potato. The commander was about to give up and eat a sack of flour when Tacitus came into the mess hall.

"Sir." Tacitus saluted.

"At ease." Hadvar replied. "Do you ever sleep?" Tacitus eased his stance and sat down, opening up a textbook.

"Not when there's strategy to be done." Tacitus replied. Hadvar thought about it, then shrugged.

"I guess that's what I'm paying you for." He said.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. They heard a sound.

"What was that?" Hadvar asked. Tacitus listened more closely. His eyes widened.

"That's the war horn." He said. "We're under attack."

The two men bolted out of their seats and ran outside, swords at the ready. Hadvar scanned the situation. There didn't seem to be too many Stormcloaks in the attack, but it was still dark and he couldn't tell if there were more hiding in the shadows. Hadvar felt he didn't need to give orders-everyone in the fort had their own jobs to do and knew how to do them. So he did what he did best: he charged headlong into the fray.

Out of all the things Hadvar couldn't have since his leadership: he missed fighting the most. Sure, he might get to swing his sword once or twice during a border scuffle, but he couldn't be a part of the vanguard like he used to. And that, in his opinion, was where all the action was. But in a scuffle like the one Hadvar was facing now, he could let himself loose a bit.

Hadvar charged up to the barricades on the front entrance, shooting at the rebels with his bow. He wasn't nearly as good with the bow as he was with his sword, but he still managed to drop a few Stormcloaks. When the first barricade caved in, Hadvar rushed forward to fill the space. There weren't too many Stormcloaks to begin with, but one managed to sneak around Hadvar. The commander turned around to see the rebel raise his warhammer, only to get shot in the eye with an arrow.

A pitch-black, ebony arrow.

Hadvar turned around to look for the responsible archer. There, standing on the hills, was a flowing black silhouette. Hadvar looked away for a brief moment, and the figure was gone.

* * *

"Tacitus!" Hadvar called once the skirmish was over. "Do we have any idea why they just attacked out of nowhere?"

"Not that I know of, sir." Tacitus knelt over a dead Stormcloak. "To be honest, I'm not even sure where they came from. Perhaps their commander has some information."

"But he's dead."

"There should be some orders on him if we're lucky." Tacitus replied.

"Okay then," Hadvar glanced around. "Look for a commander among these bodies."

It didn't take too long to find the Stormcloak commander wrapped in bear furs. Hadvar knelt down and felt the commander's pockets. He pulled out a scrap of paper. It read:

" _See to it that those thieving milk-drinkers at Fort Greymoor are taught a lesson, and don't come back without those blueprints!_

 _-Galmar Stone-Fist_ "

Hadvar was confused. "Huh?" He looked at Tacitus. "We haven't stolen anything from the Stormcloaks, right?"

"Right." Tacitus replied, nodding.

"Then what on Nirn are they talking about?"

"It could be a farce." Tacitus mused. "They might be trying to psych us out." Hadvar's eyes caught the ebony arrow.

"No." Hadvar said. "I don't think it is. Check the fort. I think we have something." Tacitus ran off towards the fort, albeit looking confused. Hadvar pulled the black-shafted arrow from the Stormcloak's eye. It was a fantastic shot, reaching all the way to the brainstem in the back of the head. The Stormcloak was most likely dead before he hit the ground. To shoot from where Hadvar saw the figure and land the arrow through the eye socket of the rebel's helmet took incredible skill. Hadvar cleaned the ebony arrow off and took it inside the fort with him. The commander found Tacitus in the briefing room outside the commander's quarters.

"Find anything?" Hadvar asked. Tacitus nodded to the sheet of paper he was reading.

"This is almost certainly what the Stormcloaks were talking about." Tacitus said. "But it definitely wasn't here before."

"I think I know how it got here." Hadvar replied. "But what do the blueprints say?"

"Honestly, I don't know what it is." Tacitus replied. "But I do know it's important. Judging from the drawings and symbols, this details how to find immense power. But it's impossible to tell exactly what. The language isn't Nibenese. It's something I haven't seen before." Hadvar moved to look at the script. From what he could tell, the parchment was only filled with pictures and scribbles.

"How do you think it got here?" Tacitus asked. Hadvar held up the ebony arrow. "You think the Nightingale stole it and he planted the evidence here, then tipped off the Stormcloaks?" Hadvar glanced at a corner of the parchment. He found one symbol he did know.

"Looks like I'm right." Hadvar said, pointing to the Nightingale's callsign.

"Huh." Tacitus said. "But anyways, if this paper leads to immense power, then there's no way we can let the Stormcloaks have it. They'll use it on us." He turned the parchment around. "The Stormcloaks had partly translated the text. It points to a '*Ygnvild Barrow'. Apparently something there is key to figuring all this out." Hadvar nodded.

"I'll go scope it out." The commander said. "It shouldn't take me long. You have the fort until I get back."

* * *

Hadvar had cut down his third draugr when a fourth crept behind him. He swung his sword around in time to catch its war axe. A quick shield bash followed by a stab put the monster to rest. The final chamber of the barrow was finally cleared. Hadvar wiped the sweat off of his brow and looked at the ceiling. He sorely missed Anali's help in spelunking. He sorely missed her in general. She would have been at his back, downing that draugr before it said "fai paz dinok." Hadvar shook his head. It was no use mourning now. Anali was dead and has been dead for four years, and he was with Ysolda now. Ysolda, who was safer, who he could protect this time around.

Hadvar looked around the room. The final chamber held nothing of value, which was a bad sign. Did the Stormcloaks clear the barrow out already? Hadvar found an arrow sticking out of a nearby wooden table. He peered closer, and saw the shaft was black. Hadvar walked to the table, and found a familiar symbol gazing back at him.

He saw a blackbird's wings enveloping a full moon where the barrow's treasure should be. The Nightingale had beaten him to the punch.

* * *

The Nightingale strode through the Ratway and opened the door to the Ragged Flagon. The thief crossed the pond and walked up to the counter, bag of stolen goods in hand.

"Hey, Vekel." The Nightingale said. "Have you seen Tonilia around?"

"Eh," The Flagon's keeper began, wiping down the counter with a cloth. "I think she's in the Cistern getting some shut-eye."

"I know how hard that is for her." The Nightingale said as the master thief put the bag on Tonilia's favorite box to sit on. "I'll just leave the stuff over here for when she wakes up."

"You're not worried someone else is going to claim credit for your work?" Vekel the Man asked. The Nightingale shrugged.

"I know I can trust you and the others." The fabled thief said. An ashamedly bald Breton wearing black leather armor waltzed in from the alcove in the back of the Flagon.

"Delvin." The Nightingale greeted. "Coming back from a nap?"

"Aye, boss." The Breton said as he sat down in front of a horker loaf. "Did you finish that bedlam job? You're back much later than you usually are with those."

"I... may have stopped to sniff the roses a bit." The Nightingale replied, shrugging. "But I think Tonilia will be happy with this particular haul. I know I am."

"Well, good job boss. Here's the gold from the customer, as per the usual." Delvin handed the master thief a sack of coins. The Nightingale opened the pouch and peered inside.

"Good to see they're still paying at 1,000 gold increments." The thief said, counting the 500 coins in the pouch. "I take it Brynjolf has already input the Guild's portion into the ledger in my absence?"

"That he has, boss." Delvin said. "He put it in about two days ago. You know him too well."

"Good, good." The Nightingale said, walking towards the alcove in the back. "I'd better go and make sure he hasn't messed up too much of my organization, or he's going to get it from me."


	4. Solitude

**A/N: Hi again! I just want to give a big thanks to everyone who's followed, favorited, reviewed, and ghosted through this story so far! And without further ado, here is the next chapter!**

 **Chapter 5 (one of my favorites) will be online next Sunday night.**

* * *

"So the Nightingale had already stolen everything of value by the time you got there, sir?" Tacitus asked, once Hadvar returned to the fort.

"That's right." Hadvar replied, wiping his forehead with a cloth. "There was nothing but old draugr bones left."

"This makes no sense." Tacitus said, sighing. "Why would he steal the plans from the Stormcloaks, plant it here, tip off both the rebels and us, lead us to the barrow, and then steal the treasure before we could do anything?"

"Maybe he just wants to screw around with us." Hadvar said. "If so, he has a sick sense of humor. Do you have any idea who the Nightingale is? If we find out, we can ask directly."

"Commander, the most anyone's seen of him is a flash of black. It's likely impossible to identify him." Tacitus replied.

"Just speculating. Who do you think it is?"

"Well," Tacitus thought for a bit. "I always thought Balthazar was a little suspicious."

"Balthazar?" Hadvar asked. "The Dragonborn? That's ridiculous."

"No, think about it." Tacitus replied. "Yes, he's traditional in the Nordic way, but isn't there a side of him we don't see?"

Hadvar considered it. "That works." The commander said. "Balthazar has been 'out and about' every time the Nightingale has struck. But it's not like we can just go up to him and demand the artifact. He's a Nordic hero."

"Right." Tacitus agreed. "So we should track down the Nightingale using clues gathered from the thief himself, not from Balthazar."

"Why are we tracking him down in the first place? That seems doomed to failure. No one's seen him before."

"He's got the link to the immense power the parchment was talking about, and he's a thief. Thieves have no honor. He'll sell it to the highest bidder, and if we're not careful that will be the Stormcloaks. We need to barter it off him before they do."

"No." Hadvar said, fervently shaking his head. "The Nightingale is wanted for grand larceny. We're the Empire. We do not negotiate with criminals. General Tullius won't accept this, and neither will I."

"Commander, I don't think we have a choice." Tacitus replied. "If we don't intercept this, the Stormcloaks will hold a huge advantage over us, and that will change the balance of the war. We should at least find out what this power is, so they won't have the element of surprise."

"So we can figure it out on our own."

"When the Nightingale holds all the clues? We need his help, one way or another."

Hadvar sighed.

"If we just leave this alone," Tacitus continued. "Then the Stormcloaks are just going to keep coming after us until Fort Greymoor falls. We can't leave the men to that fate."

"Fine." Hadvar said. "We'll go to Solitude. But if this turns out to be a wild goose chase…"

"It won't." Tacitus replied. "We might even end up with a criminal in the bag."

* * *

Hadvar and Tacitus arrived in Solitude as dawn broke. The Empire's headquarters in Skyrim towered before them, glistening orange in the sunlight. The soldiers pushed the oak doors open and stepped into Solitude's marketplace.

"It's been a while since I've been here." Hadvar said, looking around. "Not since my last promotion."

"I haven't been here since I first joined up." Tacitus added. A black cloak shoved its way past Hadvar.

"Hey!" Hadvar called. "Watch where you're…" He ate his words when he realized who it was. An Altmer, wearing black robes embroidered with gold. A Thalmor agent.

"Excuse me, commander?" The Thalmor spat. "You were saying something?"

"No, it was nothing." Hadvar tried his best to backtrack. The last thing the Empire wanted was to cross the Thalmor at its weakened state. "My apologies, milord."

"Good." The Thalmor said as he turned back around. "See to it that it doesn't happen again." The agent strode off toward the Castle Dour courtyard. Hadvar glared at the Altmer's retreating form.

"Well well." A familiar voice sounded behind the commander. "That was almost a disaster." Hadvar turned around to see a familiar Nord grinning in greeting.

"Quintus!" Hadvar laughed, clapping his old friend on the shoulder. "How have you been, man?"

"Eh," Quintus said, shrugging. "I can't complain. I may not be able to join the lines again-" Quintus tapped his walking cane. "-but fletching apparently gets the ladies just as well." Quintus ended the sentence with a sly grin on his face. Hadvar rolled his eyes.

"Haven't changed much, I see." Hadvar replied. "Did Legate Rikke get my letter?"

"That she did." Quintus said as he started limping away, the leg that was hit in the Battle for Whiterun lagging behind. "Come on. She and General Tullius are waiting inside Castle Dour."

* * *

Castle Dour's walls were gruff and towering, a testament to the general inside. General Tullius was a stone-faced leader, no nonsense tolerated. He enforced strict organization in the Legion, a trait Hadvar was drawn to. In the soldier's mind, General Tullius' word was law. The man could do no wrong.

Hadvar and Tacitus opened the front doors of the Legion headquarters and went inside. They found Legate Rikke and the General waiting in the war room.

"Well, Hadvar." General Tullius began. "Whatever dragged you from your post in Fort Greymoor ought to be worthwhile, otherwise there's going to be a major problem."

"This is worthwhile, sir." Hadvar replied. "We believe the Stormcloaks are chasing down a power capable of turning the tides of the war. Tacitus believes they could end us in one fell swoop if they find it." The general was interested.

"So what is this power then?" He asked.

"We most likely won't know until we find it, sir." Tacitus said. "But we did know where to find it." The tactician spread the found blueprints on the table. "This piece of parchment showed us where to find a treasure connected to the power, but attempts to collect it failed."

"And why was that?" The general asked.

"The Nightingale reached the artifact before we could recover it, sir." Hadvar said. "It's in a con man's hands now." General Tullius sighed.

"Of course he had to get mixed up in this…" The general said. "That thief is nothing more than a headache."

"We request permission to track down the Nightingale and recover the artifact before he can sell it to the Stormcloaks." Hadvar said.

"And leave Fort Greymoor undefended?" The general replied. "No. Denied. Your place is leading the men at the fort, Hadvar. Not chasing after a criminal."

"His place won't mean much if the Stormcloaks annihilate the Empire's presence in Skyrim." A voice sounded. Hadvar turned to see the same Thalmor he bumped into earlier. General Tullius stiffened.

"I wasn't expecting a Thalmor emissary today, Agent Aincatar." He said, crossing his arms.

"Yes, I apologize for the intrusion." The Thalmor named Aincatar replied. "But I couldn't help but overhear the conversation." He turned to Hadvar. "You're the commander from Fort Greymoor, are you not?"

Hadvar nodded, gulping.

"I see." Aincatar said. "Then I trust you saw the little present the Nightingale left you?"

"Are you talking about the blueprints here?" Tacitus said, gesturing to the parchment on the table. "We think the Nightingale planted it on us."

"Of course I'm talking about that." The Thalmor spat. "Those blueprints are useless without the component the Nightingale stole. I've been tracking the thief for years now, and I believe I've pinpointed the Nightingale's location. The best place we can find the skeever is in Riften, home of the Thieves Guild." Aincatar turned to General Tullius. "I'm going after the thief, and I'm taking these two with me." General Tullius scowled.

"I'm not granting them-"

"Oh, I forgot." Aincatar said. "You don't have a choice anymore, do you?" The general nearly growled.

"Fine." General Tullius replied. "Check in with Legate Fasendil, though, so he won't interrupt with your mission. I'll send replacements to Fort Greymoor."


	5. The Nightingale

**AN: Hey everyone! Here is the fifth chapter of Song of the Nightingale. A big thanks to everyone who's reviewed/favorited/followed/ghosted so far. Chapter 6 will be up next Sunday at 9pm again. Enjoy!**

* * *

Hadvar couldn't tell if the order to report to Legate Fasendil was an act of bookkeeping or a subtle attack on the Thalmor. The Altmer officer hated the Thalmor to the bone, especially after seeing their callous actions during the massacre of Green Fire. Legate Fasendil had specifically asked to be stationed in Skyrim to keep an eye on the Thalmor. And now General Tullius has sent a Thalmor agent right to the legate's face. It was a curious move, and impossible to tell if it was coincidence or not.

The legate was ready to meet the trio when the wagon arrived at the Legion's camp in the Rift. He stiffened when Aincatar came into view. But Legate Fasendil nevertheless put on a poker face and pretended everything was fine. Hadvar and Tacitus followed his lead.

"So what's the plan?" The legate asked.

"The plan is simple." Aincatar said as he crossed into the command tent. "We know the Nightingale is in Riften, but we don't know where. These two-" he pointed to Hadvar and Tacitus. "-will go into the city as travelers. They will inquire about how to speak with the Nightingale. Since I'm sure the thief won't show during daylight, I'll tail them once night falls. We'll grab the artifact, and get the Nightingale to come along quietly." Aincatar turned to Legate Fasendil. "I'll need your men at the ready in case we need backup." The Thalmor said. "This Nightingale is said to be worth something in a fight." Legate Fasendil nodded.

"I'll have my men on standby." The legate replied. "We'll await your order." Aincatar turned to Hadvar and Tacitus.

"Get going." The Thalmor said. "Riften's still a ways away from here, and we need the information by nightfall. And once you have the artifact in your hands, you bring it straight to me. Understand?"

For some reason that last command didn't sit well with Hadvar.

* * *

Riften was… a cultural shock. The city was nothing like ordered Whiterun and Solitude, whose streets were built with loyal stone. Riften was almost entirely comprised of stained and rotting wooden planks. Fish odor and deceit filled the air. Hadvar wondered if all Stormcloak cities looked like this.

The two disguised Legionnaires hadn't made it five steps into the city when a huge Nord wearing steel armor stepped in front of them.

"I don't know you two." The Nord grumbled, his voice low and gruff. "You in Riften looking for trouble?"

"No, not at all." Tacitus was quick to reply. "We're just passing through. Maybe get some mead on the way. I hear the Black-Briar brand is good."

The Nord shifted in his spot, visibly uncomfortable. "Fine." He said. "Meadery's over that way." He pointed to his left. "But you better watch yourself out here, or you'll end up in the gutters beneath the city." The Nord walked off.

"What was that all about?" Hadvar asked, looking at Tacitus.

"That must have been Maul, Maven Black-Briar's right hand man." Tacitus replied. "He's her bodyguard, and keeps undesirables off the street."

"Aren't we undesirable? He just walked away without so much as a second glance."

"That's because I dropped that we're in the market for some mead." Tacitus explained. "I had guessed that Maul was specifically instructed to avoid harassing potential consumers. It'd be bad for Maven's business if he scared away all the customers." Hadvar was impressed. He completely missed that subtle exchange. He'd have probably angered Maul and caused a scene.

"I'm going to let you take the lead here." Hadvar said. "You're better at this stuff than I am."

Tacitus nodded and moved on. They had taken a few more steps when Hadvar saw a woman with chocolate brown hair bump into a merchant selling food. The incident hadn't lasted more than eight seconds, but Hadvar noticed the woman was holding a coin purse in her hand that wasn't there before. Hadvar was about to call out and stop the thief when Tacitus stopped him.

"Don't." He said. "Look at her armor. She's probably with the Guild. We need good relations with them right now."

Hadvar didn't like it, but he knew Tacitus was right. As they passed into the ring of merchant stands, the commander caught sight of an interesting headline on a newspaper on the ground. He pocketed it, and decided to share his thoughts later when they had more privacy. The two men were once again interrupted, this time right next to the well. A woman clad in banded iron armor and carrying a steel battleaxe came up to them, followed by a boy in expensive clothing.

"New in town?" She asked in a thick Nordic accent.

"Just here on business." Tacitus replied. "We're trying to track down the Thieves Guild."

"Dishing out some justice, I hope." The woman replied. "The Thieves Guild and Maven are the reason this city's so evil. You can find their headquarters down in the Ratway sewers beneath Riften. It's in the sewers down in the lower docks. Good luck to you two." The woman and the boy walked off.

"Okay," Hadvar said to Tacitus. "Sewers at nightfall. That shouldn't be too hard."

"Excuse me, lads." A merchant called, standing behind a stall full of red potions. "You're travelers, correct?"

"That's right." Hadvar replied without thinking. Tacitus almost kicked him.

"Well, be careful if you enter the Ratway." The merchant continued. "The sewers are home to ruffians of all sorts. Wouldn't want to see you hurt, would we lad?"

"We'll be careful." Tacitus said. "Thank you for the warning."

"Don't mention it, lad." The merchant replied. Hadvar noticed he had odd eyes. They were a mix of black and violet. Whatever it was, it didn't quite look normal. "If you're heading down there, can I interest you in some Falmer Blood Elixir? It'll make you as strong as a frost troll. Ruffians would certainly think twice about going after you."

"We'll pass, thanks." Tacitus said as he dragged Hadvar to the nearest inn.

* * *

"It's got to be him." Hadvar said as they walked into the room they rented for the night. "That merchant has got to be the one we're looking for."

"What happened to the theory that it was Balthazar?" Tacitus asked. Hadvar tossed him the newspaper he was holding onto. Tacitus studied the article.

"The Dragonborn was robbed." The tactician said. " _By_ the Nightingale. I guess that does rule him out." Tacitus paused. "But what makes you think the Nightingale is that merchant?"

"Did you see his eyes?" Hadvar asked. "Those eyes weren't normal. Haven't you heard the rumors that the Nightingale is imbued with magic incantations? Changes in eye color are signs of powerful magic in the body, right?"

"That's true." Tacitus said. "And if Falmer Blood Elixir truly increases fighting prowess, I would have heard of it before. That was obviously a shakedown. But I don't think the Nightingale would allow himself to be seen in a marketplace in daylight with his face plainly visible. He seems too cautious for that. We need more evidence. We need a meeting with the actual Nightingale, not just who we think it is."

"You're right." Hadvar said. He looked out the window. "The sun's almost down. We should get moving. Is there any sign of Aincatar?"

"No, not yet." Tacitus replied, picking up a piece of bread. "But I suppose that's the definition of 'tailing.' I guess we're not supposed to know."

"Hmm." Hadvar mumbled. "Well, I'm sure we're going to run into trouble down there, certainly now that he knows we're coming. Let's get this over with."

* * *

In all of Hadvar's life, he has never seen anything as shady as the Ratway. The air stank of decay, water leaked from the ceiling, skeevers hid in the shadows, and ruined items littered the floor. Hadvar swore he just stepped on a skull. He didn't know how it was possible anyone could live in these tunnels and still be healthy enough for thieving. One look at Tacitus told him the tactician was thinking the same thing.

The duo eventually came to a small room with a pillar in the center and a bedroll in the corner. The only way through was blocked by a black mass. Further inspection revealed it to be the merchant from before, this time wearing black leather armor but still freely showing his face.

"Welcome, lads." The Nord greeted. "What business do you have with the Thieves Guild?"

"We wish to speak with the Nightingale." Tacitus said, trying to sound as neutral as possible. "We have a business proposal for him." The man narrowed his odd eyes.

"Is that so?" He replied. "Well, I'm afraid you're out of luck, lad. Legionnaires don't get the honor of meeting the boss." Hadvar's eyes widened. Did he know about the plan?

"How did-"

"Look out!" Tacitus shouted, sweeping behind him to repel an assailant. Hadvar spun around. Two Stormcloak soldiers rushed the surprised Legionnaires.

Hadvar realized this would be a downhill fight for them. Neither he nor Tacitus wore their armor since Riften was controlled by the Stormcloaks, and they only carried daggers. Hadvar was nearly useless with a dagger. Tacitus, on the other hand, fared a little better with them. But he was busy trying to fend off his own assailant, leaving Hadvar with the other.

He grappled for a brief time with the rebel, but soon realized he was getting nowhere. Hadvar spared a glance back at Tacitus and saw the tactician finally fell his opponent. The glance cost the commander, since by the time he turned his head back around, he saw the Stormcloak readying to bring his warhammer down. There was a quick flash of blue behind the rebel. The Stormcloak dropped to his knees and fell to the ground, revealing a black figure holding a chillingly blue glass blade. The figure's arm dropped to its side as the master thief stepped into the torchlight.

"Evening, boss." The merchant said, respectfully dipping his head. Hadvar looked from the merchant back to the figure before him. He couldn't believe it.

A _woman_. The fabled Nightingale was a _woman_. Not a man, like the rest of Skyrim seemed to believe. Hadvar would never had guessed.

She was… Hadvar didn't know what she was. Beautiful? Awe inspiring? Terrifying? Intriguing? Dangerous? He couldn't tell through the mysterious armor she wore. It was as if she was clad in forged, flowing midnight-complete with a pitch-black cape. Her equally black hood cast a dark shadow over the top half of her face, and a black cloth with silver embroidery covered the rest. Silver-looking eyes shone through the darkness covering her face. The symbol of the Nightingale was etched into her chest-piece. The only body part showing were her pale fingers through the fingerless gloves she wore. She proudly stood at her full height, but Hadvar was still at least a head taller.

"Commander." Her feminine voice sounded like obscured midnight. _That couldn't be her real voice,_ Hadvar thought. _There must be a voice-scrambling enchantment on the face-piece._ She sheathed her sword. "I apologize for the rude welcome. We've been flushing out unwanted Stormcloaks from the Ratway for a while now." Her silver eyes moved to the merchant behind Hadvar. "Brynjolf." She said, a hint of annoyance in her tone. "I trust in the future you will _aid_ clients when they are attacked, instead of just standing there?"

"I'm sorry, lass." The man named Brynjolf replied. "But I really don't think you should be meeting with these two." The Nightingale glided past the two soldiers and up to Brynjolf, her movements making no noise at all. Hadvar noticed a second sword on her hip as she passed by him.

"We are neutral in the war." The Nightingale reminded Brynjolf. "As long as they can give us coin, they are welcome here." She made to move past him, but Brynjolf caught her arm.

"Please, lass." he pleaded. "Don't do this. I'm just trying to protect you." She gently tugged his hand off her.

"Don't worry." She reassured gently, her voice still obscured. "I know what I'm doing." The Nightingale moved on, past Brynjolf and crossing the bridge. "Follow me, Commander. I know a safer place where we can talk."

"And don't try anything." Brynjolf grumbled as he moved behind the two soldiers. The Nightingale led the group to a door in the back of the Ratway and went inside. Hadvar and Tacitus followed her, and were surprised by the liveliness of the chamber on the other side. Several merchants had taken up residence in the alcoves surrounding a pool of water. Hadvar could make out an alchemist, a blacksmith, a fletcher, and an armorer. A sort of tavern sat on the opposite side of the pool. Hadvar could make out the sign as the Nightingale led them closer to the tavern. The Ragged Flagon.

"What's this?" Another gruff Nord blocked the stairs up to the tavern. Hadvar looked past the man and saw the people in the Flagon stop what they were doing and turn to look at the scene.

"They're with me, Dirge." The Nightingale said. "They won't cause any trouble for Vekel." The Nord grumbled and allowed the group to pass.

"Is this what I think it is?" a bald Breton said, standing up from his seat.

"Ha!" A woman called from the other side of the tavern. "I think I know. I'll bet twenty septims they can't stand against the boss for five seconds."

"Don't antagonize them, Vex." The Nightingale called back. She sat down at a table and gestured for Hadvar and Tacitus to do the same. "Forgive them." The Nightingale told Hadvar. "My colleagues are...nervous when around symbols of the law."

"We won't be long." Tacitus said as he sat down. "But how do you know who we are?"

"Because I know everything I want to, Tacitus." The Nightingale replied. "Stealing information is just as easy as stealing objects. I knew who you were and that you wanted to see me the moment you set foot in the Rift. Now, here I am. So what can I do for you?"

Hadvar gulped. For once, he hoped Aincatar would be here soon with the reinforcements. Hadvar would fearlessly hold his own in a battlefield against the Stormcloaks. This, however, was an entirely different story. He was sitting unarmed and unarmored in the bowels of Riften, surrounded by semi-hostile people and sitting in front of the greatest thief Skyrim had ever known. He had never been more terrified in his life.

"Oh, and I'm afraid your Thalmor associate won't be joining us." The Nightingale said, as if she could read his thoughts. "He is currently enjoying a long, cold walk back to the Embassy. In nothing but his underwear." She held up Thalmor robes for the Legionnaires to see. The Thieves Guild audience burst into raucous laughter. Hadvar and Tacitus looked at each other. The Nightingale had disabled their plan to capture her in a single move. No Aincatar, no reinforcements. No reinforcements, no way to grab her and beat back the rest of the Guild. Despite his growing alarm, Hadvar had to admit to himself that the stuck-up Altmer did deserve it, what with his barely being able to tolerate the natives of Skyrim.

"Now," The Nightingale said once the laughter died down, tossing the robes aside. "What did you want to see me about?" Hadvar and Tacitus looked at each other again. If they couldn't capture the Nightingale, they would have to play for what they could still get.

"You took something." Hadvar said plainly. "And we need it."

"Okay." The Nightingale said, sighing and crossing her arms. "I take a lot of things. I need more than that. Way more."

"It's an ancient artifact from deep inside Ygnvild Barrow." Tacitus filled in, glaring at Hadvar for failing miserably at description. "We know you took it. You left your callsign behind." The Nightingale leaned back in her chair and was quiet.

"That." She said eventually. "Look, I only steal things that I can turn around quickly for a profit. I don't have it anymore." Hadvar's heart almost stopped. Were they too late? Did the Stormcloaks already have it in their hands?

"Who did you sell it to?" Hadvar asked, desperate.

"I don't remember. And to be honest, I don't think they even have it anymore. It's probably changed hands more than once now." Hadvar and Tacitus looked at each other. "I know I didn't sell it to the Stormcloaks, if that's what you're wondering. They give me a headache." Tacitus turned back to her.

"Can you get it back?" The tactician asked. "You must have contacts all over Skyrim. Surely one of them can tell you where it is."

"I probably can." The Nightingale responded. "But it'll cost you." Tacitus sighed. Hadvar saw this coming.

"How much?" Tacitus asked, dreading the reply.

"How much you got?"

Hadvar grudgingly passed a coin purse over the table. The Nightingale opened it up and looked at the gold inside. Her silver eyes went from the gold to Hadvar, then back again.

"That will do it." She said, pocketing the gold. "I'll ride over to Fort Greymoor once I find the artifact."

"I suppose that's all we can hope for." Tacitus said, standing up. "Thank you for your hospitality. We'll show ourselves out." The Nightingale watched their retreating backs, seemingly contemplating something.

"Hadvar, wait." She called once they reached the Flagon sign. Hadvar turned around, slightly caught off guard that she called him by his name instead of "commander."

"Yes?"

"Did you decipher those blueprints I sent you?"

"Uh, no not yet." Hadvar replied. The Nightingale sighed again.

"Give it here." She said, holding out her left hand. "I'll find a translation while I'm at it."

Hadvar hesitated, but the Nightingale nonverbally insisted. He eventually crossed the distance and put the document into her hands. She looked at it.

"Thanks." She said. "Dirge, walk them out."

After the Legionnaires had left, Brynjolf walked up to the Nightingale.

"I don't remember you fencing that artifact." He said. The Nightingale stood up, walked over to a box in the corner, and pulled out an icy blue dragon's claw.

"That's because I didn't."


	6. Aftermath Part 1

**A/N: Hey everyone! First off, a big thank you to everyone who's followed/favorited/reviewed/ghosted. I'm really sorry that this chapter is out a few hours late. I decided last minute to not only add a few pages, but also split this chapter into two parts. And since my brain takes FOREVER to write things (I've been sitting at my computer doing this all day long), I ended up missing my deadline. Again, I'm really sorry for the unexpected delay, and it shouldn't happen too often. On the positive side, I can upload part 2 (where things start to kick up) early. Then there's some big reveals coming up in the subsequent chapters. Part 2 should be out Wednesday at 9pm, and then I'll be back to regular updates on Sundays.**

* * *

Hadvar and Tacitus sat on the wagon heading back to camp, trying to figure out what just happened.

"Okay," Hadvar said, jumping right into what bothered him. "First off, the Nightingale's a woman. Did you see that coming?"

"No," Tacitus replied, shaking his head. "That I certainly did not. I guess everyone in Skyrim assumed skilled thieves have to be men, and that women are only good for marrying. But that probably couldn't have gone any worse for us. We have no Nightingale in custody, who knows what happened to Aincatar and what ramifications that will have, and no one knows where the artifact is."

"Well, let's look at it this way." Hadvar said, trying to stay optimistic. "We at least have the Nightingale working for us."

"She's a thief." Tacitus rebuked. "I don't trust her at all. The only thing we can get out of that arrangement is a dagger in the back."

"I don't know." Hadvar said. "She doesn't seem like the double crossing type."

"She's a thief." Tacitus argued. "No thieves have honor."

"Like it or not, she's working with us now. Weren't you the one who suggested that?" Tacitus sighed.

"Yes." He said. "But we didn't have much of a choice. We need to find that artifact immediately, and she's the only one with enough connections to do that."

"So you answered your own question. We can trust her because we have to and don't have another choice."

"Fine." Tacitus grumbled. "But I don't like the way this is shaping up."

The Imperial camp came into view, with Legate Fasendil waiting for them at the entrance.

"What happened?" The legate asked as Hadvar and Tacitus hopped off. "Aincatar has disappeared, and I never heard from any of you. Did you even find this Nightingale?"

"I think it's more accurate to say the Nightingale found us." Hadvar said, walking into the armory tent and reclaiming the armor he sorely missed. "She apparently knew we were coming and so she avoided our trap. What happened to Aincatar?"

"I don't know." Legate Fasendil replied. "One moment he was sitting guarded in his tent, the next he was gone, and the guard never saw him leave." Hadvar and Tacitus looked at each other. The Nightingale wasn't bluffing then. But how did she pull that off undetected in an armored camp? Such a feat was surely impossible.

"I think we can check the Embassy for him in a day or two." Tacitus said with a slight smirk. "Though he might never want to speak to us again." Legate Fasendil sighed, putting a hand to his forehead.

"I'm guessing the Nightingale had something to do with this." He said. "That thief is always causing trouble. We might have to do some diplomatic damage control with the Thalmor. Did you at least get the artifact?" Hadvar shook his head.

"She had already fenced it by the time we got there." The legate groaned.

"Give me some good news, Commander." He pleaded. Hadvar shrugged.

"The best I can do is that the Nightingale's working with us now, sir. With her vast Thieves Guild network, she'll be able to find the artifact much faster than if we were to look on our own."

"Well, I guess that's something at least." Legate Fasendil said. "If the Nightingale can't find it in time, no one can."

"You seem very trusting, sir." Tacitus remarked. "She's a thief. How can we be sure she'll keep her word and tell us if she finds anything?"

"I've seen the true face of evil during Green Fire." The legate replied. "I know what it looks like to be warped by evil. My post in the Rift lets me see a little bit more of the Nightingale's actions than most, and what I've seen in the thief is not evil." Legate Fasendil paused. "Did you know there's a clause in the rules of the Thieves Guild that prevents the member from killing his/her marks? It's not common knowledge, but it's true." Tacitus scoffed.

"And what's stopping them from breaking that?" The boy asked.

"They lose their share of the spoils." the legate replied. "But whether or not this Nightingale has her head on straight is irrelevant. I'm sure you both miss your fort. Let me report to General Tullius; you two can go back to Fort Greymoor."

* * *

The Nightingale swept through the newly opened window and landed soundlessly on the floor. A quick glance around told her she stood in a sort of makeshift bedroom, with straw beds and chests strewn here and there. Most of the family was asleep in their respective beds-good. But the Nightingale noticed a few beds were empty, which was not a good sign. It was 1:30 in the morning and no teenagers in the family-which meant they had to be in the house somewhere. The master thief instinctively dropped to a low crouch to minimize any noise she might make. _Careful_ , she thought to herself. _A single mistake is all it takes_. The Nightingale's silver eyes fell on her nearest victim-an unassuming mahogany chest in the corner. She crossed the distance in a single, graceful roll and was picking the lock within seconds. The lock fell apart with ease and she was instantly rummaging through the contents, carefully plucking out a pouch of gold coins, an emerald, and a few rings. The Nightingale soundlessly closed the chest lid and slid to the next one. The second chest fell as fast as the first one, and the master thief was soon finished stealing from every appliance in the room.

Her eyes turned to the sleeping parents, wondering how much coin they had on them. Unwilling to lose profit to chance, the Nightingale slid to their bedside. A proper pickpocketing is supposed to last no more than five seconds, target and execution included. But with sleeping victims, it's a little different. An ebony hand silently unclasped the gold emerald necklace and had it off the woman's neck in two moments. The master thief turned over to the sleeping man and slid the ring off his finger. Just as she was about to descend down the stairs, the Nightingale turned around to look back at the man. _He's wearing a nice shirt._ The master thief thought. _I bet it would look good on Brynjolf. His birthday's coming up._

A few seconds later the Nightingale trotted down the steps, shirt pleasantly tucked under her arm. The first floor kitchen was littered with cured meats and fresh vegetables, which made sense since it was one of Solitude's few farms. The Nightingale surveyed the foods, and picked out a potato for snacking later. After bagging her snack, the master thief turned away from the kitchen and scanned the lower floor. There wasn't much of value left, just an old iron mace and some steel boots. And yet… the Nightingale sensed something wasn't right. She'd seen the inside of a lot of homes. She goes where she's not exactly allowed. The master thief knows when a family is trying to hide something: a bookcase at an odd angle, a hollow wall, or a pile of snow nowhere near an entrance. That one was her favorite. The Nightingale crept away from the kitchen and stopped in front of a bookcase on the other side of the room. Her pale fingers grazed the side of the bookshelf, and it came away a dark red. Blood.

Curious, the Nightingale's hand hovered over the lever masquerading as a torch sconce. _Curiosity killed the cat_ , she thought to herself. _There's truth to that saying_. The thief glanced around the shelf, looking for a shadowmark to tell her what's beyond the bookcase. She found none, which meant she was the first of the Guild to find this. The master thief shrugged. _What the hell, why not?_ The Nightingale thought as she pulled the sconce.

The bookcase slid aside, revealing steps down into a dank basement. The master thief paused for a moment, listening to the sleeping parents above. She heard no footsteps, so the Nightingale figured she was in the clear. The thief cracked open the basement door and slipped inside.

She froze in her tracks.

There, crumpled in the corner was a ragged, bloodied beggar. Unwanted memories surged through the Nightingale's vision like a shot from a bow. The woman saw a flash of a crumpled body in a cell, a rusty nail, blood spatters on the floor, shackles covered in blood, and screaming—oh gods, the screaming…

The Nightingale shook her hooded head, trying to return herself to reality. She was in the middle of a job. Now was not the time for flashbacks. The beggar in the corner hadn't seen her yet-she could still make a break for it without complications. The master thief's silver eyes caught an ornate dagger sitting on one of the storage barrels. The Nightingale grabbed the dagger and pocketed it. The beggar in the corner whimpered. The Nightingale turned to look at him again, taking care not to trigger another flashback. Every stealth instinct she had, every skill Brynjolf taught her screamed at her to leave him be.

But she couldn't. She just couldn't.

The Nightingale slid over to the beggar and hoisted him up onto his arms. She moved to the window on the ceiling and worked through its lock. After scooping the beggar back up, the master thief hoisted the both of them through the hole in the ceiling and onto the fresh ground. The beggar greedily inhaled the fresh clean air, and the Nightingale had to try hard to block out the sound. Her silver eyes caught a letter inside a nearby thief cache, and grabbed it from the hollowed out log. The Nightingale's pale fingers broke the wax seal and looked at the letter:

" _Hey lass,_

 _A customer came into the Flagon while you were gone. I thought he wasn't a problem, but he apparently swiped that claw you were stashing. I tried to hunt him down, but it's as if he disappeared into the wind. I'm sorry, lass. I know that dragon's claw was somehow important to you. Maybe you should start looking while you're out._

 _~Bryn_ "

The Nightingale sighed in exasperation and looked toward the sky, letting the note fall out of her hands. Finding out she had more work to do was a _perfect_ way to end her heist.

* * *

Hadvar expelled a sigh as he slid off his saddle and planted his feet on firm ground. After several hours of solid riding from the Imperial camp in the Rift, the commander decided it was high time they took a break.

"Have you ever been to Falkreath before?" Hadvar asked his tactician as he tied his black steed outside the town gate.

"No, sir." Tacitus was quick to reply. "I've always steered clear. Falkreath gives me the chills."

"I don't blame you with that giant graveyard of theirs." Hadvar said, pausing to give his horse a pat before walking into town. "We won't be here long. We'll just stretch our legs, grab some food and maybe even buy a couple of things for the fort. Who knows?" Hadvar gave Tacitus a slight nudge. "You might end up liking the place and were just too chicken to try it out before." Tacitus scoffed at his commander's joke, but otherwise said nothing as he slowed to a stop in front of the inn.

"Don't we want some food, sir?" Tacitus asked. "The inn's right here."

"You go ahead." Hadvar replied. "I think I'll take a walk first." Tacitus gave a nod and disappeared through the door, leaving Hadvar in the streets. He took some time to wander the shops, spending a few extra moments to watch the local blacksmith at work. Hadvar had spent several hours helping his uncle at the forge, and he enjoyed working with metal. In another life in an alternate time, Hadvar would have been a blacksmith rather than a soldier. But he couldn't have that dream, not when there was a civil war to fight and an Empire to protect.

"Come on, Bolund." Hadvar's ears picked up a distant feminine voice. "You sold me crap and you know it. I'm demanding a refund."

"And cooperate with Imperials?" A gruff voice replied. "Pah. Your kind doesn't belong here, Indara. You better scurry off to Cyrodiil where you belong." Hadvar started to make his way towards the sound of the argument. He rounded a corner to find an Imperial woman locked in conversation with a blonde Nord woodcutter.

"Are you kidding me?" The Imperial was taken aback. "I've lived in Falkreath as long as you have. I've slept in its houses and grown its crops. My place is here." The Nord named Bolund scoffed. His eyes found Hadvar approaching and his face curled into a snarl.

"And look what your kind brought with you." Bolund jabbed an accusatory finger at Hadvar's Legion armor. "The Empire shouldn't be here. My brother fought to get them out, and they still sit here growing like a weed."

"My little sister fought _and died_ in this stupid war!" Indara spat back, her eyes watering and face reddening. She paused to take a deep breath. "I didn't come here to discuss politics." She continued. "I just want my money back."

"Okay, okay." Hadvar thought it was high time he intervened. Bolund instantly whirled around to him.

"This isn't your business, you Imperial dog." He snapped back. Hadvar sighed. By the Eight, this guy was temperamental.

"If you don't like looking at me, then just turn around and walk away." The commander countered. Bolund gave a low huff and walked off. "How much did he owe you?" Hadvar asked the farmer as he pulled out his wallet. Indara's eyes widened in surprise.

"No, no." She protested. "You don't have to—"

"You said your sister gave her life for the Legion, right?" Hadvar cut her off. "I want to help. It's the least I can do for a fallen comrade." Hadvar looked back up from counting out the coins in his pouch and got a good look at the woman for the first time. "Hey, have we met before?" She looked so...familiar, but he couldn't think of from where.

"No, I don't think so." Indara gave him a confused look. Her eyes went back to the coins in Hadvar's hand and sighed in defeat. "He owed me 100." Hadvar grunted and slid out the hundred gold coins. He must have just been imagining things.

"What was your sister's name, if you don't mind me asking?" Hadvar asked as he handed over the money.

"Anali." Indara replied as her fingers sifted through the coins. "Anali Caerellia."

Hadvar nearly dropped his wallet. The resemblance between the two sisters clicked in his head instantly. Memories of Anali came flooding to him: the way she wore her hair, her green eyes, the way her eyebrows were shaped… The features were all consistent with Indara's. _That's why she looked so familiar_ , Hadvar thought to himself. _Anali did mention a sister in Falkreath. Why didn't I see that before?_ Indara looked up at Hadvar's dazed eyes.

"You okay there?" She asked, looking a little worried. _By the Eight_ , Hadvar exclaimed internally. _They even talk the same way…_ He shook off his daze and scratched the back of his head.

"I'm fine." He replied, taking a deep breath. "It's just… I knew Anali. We were dating."

"You're Hadvar." Indara's eyes widened in understanding. "She talked about you quite a bit. I'd never seen her so happy. And then…"

"I can't believe it's been four years already." Hadvar sighed. "I miss her like it was yesterday." He finally put his wallet away. "Listen." He began again. "I command Fort Greymoor up in Whiterun Hold. If you need anything-anything at all, don't hesitate to send a courier and let me know." Hadvar looked at the position of the sun in the sky. Tacitus was probably by the horses waiting to leave. "I need to go, but honestly-anything at all." Indara nodded and Hadvar was off. The rest of the trip was much less boring with memories of Anali replaying in his head.


	7. Aftermath Part 2

**A/N: Hey everybody! The second part of chapter 6 is all set and ready for your enjoyment! A big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, favorited, and ghosted through the story. This chapter will answer some questions about the plot, the Stormcloak plan, and where this story is going. It paves the way for some upcoming, pivotal events of the fic. Chapter 7 will be released will be released Sunday night, so stay tuned!  
**

* * *

Legate Fasendil couldn't have been more wrong. Hadvar certainly didn't miss leading fifty men at Fort Greymoor. As terrifying as it was, being on the field and finding the Nightingale was much more appealing.

Feeling that Aincatar would call on the two soldiers again, General Tullius kept the replacements in action at the fort. That left Hadvar with nothing to do but sit in his quarters all day, trying to find ways to kill time. As the days passed, Hadvar grew more and more restless. He had taken to visiting Whiterun frequently in order to stave off the boredom.

"Well that was fun!" Ysolda exclaimed as she and Hadvar entered the aspiring merchant's house. "Who knew the Khajiit caravans could sell so much for so little?" Hadvar groaned as he set down a bag that he swore had nothing but shoes in it. "I'll have to learn their secret sometime!" Hadvar sat down at the table while Ysolda started gathering ingredients for lunch. She glanced at the clock. "What time do you have to be back at the fort today?" She asked.

"Uh, none today." Hadvar sat himself down at her dining table. "I don't have anything to do there ever since the other commander took over."

"Oh, good!" Ysolda said, scavenging through her cupboards for a missing ingredient. "Maybe we can stay up late tonight!" She headed towards the door. "For some reason I'm apparently out of milk for our lunch. You sit tight. I'll be right back. Though I could swear I just bought some…"

"Are you sure you don't want me to go?" Hadvar asked, starting to stand.

"I'm sure!" Ysolda insisted. "You've been lugging my stuff around all day, you deserve the break. The market stalls are just a few steps away. And when I get back, you can tell me all about Riften!" Ysolda disappeared through the door, leaving Hadvar alone in the house.

"Having fun?" A moonlit voice mocked. Hadvar fully stood up, looking for the source of the voice. A quick flash of purple revealed the Nightingale leaning on the wall, arms crossed. Hadvar blinked.

"You can turn _invisible_?" He asked, dumbfounded. The Nightingale rolled her silver eyes.

"It's called the Shadowcloak of Nocturnal." She replied, walking to the table and pulling a jug of milk out from her pockets. "It essentially means I can turn invisible whenever I want, for as long as I want."

"You know Ysolda's coming back here fairly soon, right?" Hadvar asked. The Nightingale shrugged.

"Probably not as soon as you think." The master thief said, pulling out more jugs of milk. "I thought of that. Never thought I'd spend my time stealing milk, though."

"What do you want?" Hadvar asked, sighing. "Because if you came here to rob Ysolda, you can think again." The Nightingale stared at him for a heartbeat, irritatingly tapping her fingers against the chair she was leaning on.

"Nothing of the sort." The Nightingale said, annoyed. "No need to get your hackles up. I'm just here to talk; I have news."

"Did you find the artifact?" Hadvar asked, hopeful.

"I'm still looking for that one." The thief replied, shaking her head. "But I've made progress on deciphering those blueprints. I was going to suggest that you head back to the fort, but…" Her eyes went to Ysolda's bed. "...looks like you're going to be busy." The Nightingale shrugged. "To be honest, I have no idea what you see in that girl. She's so… meh." Hadvar crossed his arms.

"And what makes you think you have the authority to tell me that?" He demanded. She looked away.

"Nothing, I guess." The Nightingale glided away from him. "Hey, look at this." She said, picking up the mammoth tusk. "I bet this would fetch a nice price."

"Don't even think about it." Hadvar's response was instant.

"Relax." The Nightingale replied, putting the tusk back down. "As I said, I'm not here to steal anything. You gave that to her, right? And she thought you killed a mammoth for it?"

"Right, she did." Hadvar said, raising his chin.

"Except that you didn't. You plucked it off of a table at an abandoned fort or something."

"How did you know that?" Hadvar's eyes widened.

"I'd like to say I knew beforehand, but that was a lucky guess. I'm just saying, you don't seem to want to kill mammoths for this girl."

"Shut up and get out of here." Hadvar growled.

"Fine." The Nightingale growled back. "Fort Greymoor, tomorrow morning. Don't be late, or you'll miss what I have to say." She looked at the couple's newly purchased goods. "You might want to dissuade Ysolda from finding out the caravan's secret. I recognize some of those 'legal goods'." With that, the Nightingale was soundlessly out the door.

Hadvar sat back down, lost in thought. It didn't really bother him that the Nightingale snuck into the house without anyone knowing. It didn't bother him that she conveniently hasn't found the artifact yet. What bothered him was how easily she read him like an open book. No, he hadn't actually killed a mammoth for that tusk and yes, he guessed that did mean something. The Nightingale's words stuck with him, no matter how hard he tried to disprove them. Did Hadvar like spending time with Ysolda? Yes. Did she make him happy? Yes. Was it fun? Yes. Would he face inevitable death for her? As much as Hadvar was loathe to believe it, the Nightingale made him realize the answer was no. The fact that she saw through Hadvar deluding himself scared him. She knew something about him that he didn't himself. Ysolda came bursting through the door.

"It's so strange." The girl said. "No one in the market seems to have any milk, either." Hadvar gestured to the jug the Nightingale left on the table.

"Found it."

* * *

Hadvar got up early the next day and headed back to Fort Greymoor. He opened the door to the briefing room to find Tacitus pointing his sword at the Nightingale's neck.

"Commander." The Nightingale said. "Great timing. Can you do me a favor and tell your tactician here to put his sword down so I don't have to do anything drastic?" Tacitus pulled out his other sword and also put it to her neck. Her silver eyes incredulously turned back to the tactician. "Are you serious right now? You know you don't need two of those for this."

"It's in case I miss the first one." Tacitus growled.

" _How could you possibly miss?_ "

Hadvar sighed. This wasn't a very good start to the meeting or his day. If one of them didn't back down, chances were both would end up dead.

"Stand down, Tacitus." The soldier commanded. "You know we need her help." Tacitus turned to glare at Hadvar, but sheathed his swords nonetheless.

"She shouldn't be running around with free reign, sir." Tacitus said. Hadvar waved him off.

"Your objections are noted," the commander said. "But I've got my eye on her. I'll take responsibility for whatever she does." The Nightingale stiffened, shifting in her spot and crossing her arms.

"And Tacitus," the Nightingale added. "I know you hate me and any thief you'll come across, and I am sorry about your parents. But that wasn't me, or even the Thieves Guild. For what it's worth, Linwe died by my hand." Tacitus' lip trembled as he turned and walked out of the briefing room, slamming the door behind him. Hadvar looked at the Nightingale.

"I read in his file that his parents died when their house was robbed by the Summerset Shadows." She explained. "They were a nasty group of thieves that killed their marks and were taking my Guild's jobs. When I went to confront them about what they were doing, their leader Linwe attacked me. I had to kill him." Hadvar was surprised. He never knew that about Tacitus. That must have been why he was so adamant about putting the Nightingale behind bars.

"I thought the Thieves Guild frowns on killing." Hadvar said, confused.

"We do." The Nightingale clarified. "It's bad for business and expensive as heck to clean up. But it's fine if done in self-defense. But let's get down to business, shall we?" She pulled out a folded sheet of parchment and unfolded the blueprints on the table. "First things first, I deciphered what I could from these blueprints. Some parts are indistinguishable, and others are just downright vague. But here's what I could find out. This-" she pointed to a circular drawing with odd runes- "is a summoning circle. The particular type is used to summon especially large and powerful creatures, like Xivilai or Daedroths. So I'm thinking this 'power' is an actual creature, not a magical spell or enchanted artifact. But that's just the beginning."

"What's next, then?" Hadvar asked.

"This is what really worries me." The Nightingale said, pointing to a drawing of some sort of linear object. Hadvar stared at it, befuddled.

"Is that a stick?" He clarified. "I have to be worried about a stick?" The Nightingale's silver eyes went through a wave of emotions, finally settling on amazement.

"Wow." She began. "Just...wow. I have nothing to say to that." She took a breath. "That's a picture of the Skeleton Key-one of the most powerful daedric artifacts, and most definitely _not_ a simple stick."

"The Skeleton Key?" Hadvar repeated. "Isn't that Nocturnal's? Opens up any locked door? What's it doing in the plans?"

"That's what most believe." The Nightingale replied. "And it's true, technically. But there's a little trick to it only some of Nocturnal's followers know."

"What's that?"

"The Skeleton Key can unlock hidden potential in someone, provided the wielder can expand his or her perceptions of the Key." The Nightingale explained. Hadvar wasn't following. Clearly she understood this better than him, maybe even seen it.

"What does that mean?" He asked.

"It means that if the Stormcloaks summon this already powerful creature and then 'unlock' its hidden potential with the Key, then the creature could become nigh unstoppable. It'd be like a powered up Xivilai that makes earthquakes as it walks. And if they achieve this…"

"And set it on us…"

"Any hope of your Legion surviving this war is nonexistent." The Nightingale finished for him.

"Great." Hadvar said, rubbing his temples. "This is a bigger problem than we thought. So then what does that artifact you found do?" The Nightingale thought for a bit.

"I think it's a key itself." She said. "But it opens the way to an item that's vital for the creature's summoning."

"So that's still important. Did you find it?"

"Luckily, yes." The Nightingale said. "I just got word on it this morning. My sources say it's in Rannveig's Fast, not far from here."

"Good. I can easily get permission to get in there." Hadvar turned around to find the Nightingale missing. "Okay, where did you go?"

"This is a nice sword." The master thief called from his quarters. "Where did you get it?" Hadvar walked into his room to find the Nightingale sitting on his bed, with Anali's old Dwarven blade in her hands. Hadvar's hand went to his sword. Nobody touches Anali's things. Not even the late maid Agnis.

"Put that down." Hadvar commanded. "Now." The Nightingale instead flipped the blade over to look at the two letters engraved on the hilt.

"I'm guessing your initials aren't 'AC.'" She said. "So who's is it?"

"Someone's." Hadvar took a step forward. "Now put it down." The Nightingale all but ignored his advancement.

"Someone special, I'd imagine." She commented, running her thumb along the edge of the sword, testing its sharpness. Hadvar paused, caught off guard. There she goes again, reading his mind without even trying.

"She was special, yes." Hadvar said, softening and looking away. The Nightingale stopped playing with the sword and looked at him.

"Was?" She asked. "So she's not around anymore." The Nightingale put the Dwarven sword back down. "Who was she and how did she die?" Hadvar sighed. He imagined there would be no point withholding the information. What on Nirn would the Nightingale do with it, anyway?

"Her name was Anali." Hadvar began. "Anali Caerellia. Hence the 'AC' on the hilt. We met in Helgen-on the day Alduin arrived in this Era-and I don't think I would have made it out alive without her help. I convinced her to join the Legion afterwards, which is something I'll regret for the rest of my days. We grew close and spent as much time together as we could, but in the end, I was half a nation away when her squad was ambushed by Stormcloaks. There were no survivors." The Nightingale was silent for a heartbeat.

"Seriously?" She said after a while. " _That's_ what they're saying?"

"What do you mean?" Hadvar asked, confused. Who was she to question the General's words?

"I don't know about you, but the Anali Caerellia _I_ knew didn't die in a wagon ambush. That's just... _no_. There were _definitely_ survivors." Hadvar's heart skipped a beat.

"Are you saying she's still alive?" He asked, hopeful. The Nightingale sadly shook her head.

"No." She said, sounding defeated. "Unfortunately not. I'm sorry to lead you on like that. But I know she survived the ambush, along with others in the troop."

"How do you know that?" Hadvar was thoroughly confused.

"I was caught in the middle of the ambush." The Nightingale replied. "Wrong place wrong time, really. This was back before I went professional in thieving, when I still sucked at it. Anyway, Anali was my cell mate."

"So she was captured." Hadvar muttered to himself.

"Yep." The Nightingale said. She got up from her perch on Hadvar's bed and started looking at his bookcase instead, crossing her arms. "She held out hope the first week or two, thinking that you Legionnaires were planning a rescue mission. But the Stormcloaks really know how to torture someone." The Nightingale paused. "Days passed into weeks, and weeks turned to months. It was clear you guys weren't coming, and I could slowly watch Anali's resolve crumble. In the end, she found a rusty nail in the cell and drove it through her own neck." The Nightingale sighed. "I escaped when they opened up the cell door to drag her body out." Hadvar was visibly shaking. The way the Legion delivered Anali's death, Hadvar had believed she had passed as quickly and painlessly as possible. Now the Nightingale told him the exact opposite. Either way, someone was lying.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Hadvar said in a low voice. The Nightingale turned and walked up to him, holding out a very familiar necklace.

"Before she died, Anali told me to give this to a commander named Hadvar." The Nightingale said. "I wanted to make sure it was you before I told you all this." Hadvar took the necklace, giving it a closer look. He didn't want to believe it, he didn't want to believe the Nightingale, but he had seen this necklace a thousand times before.

"Anali always wore this necklace." He said, barely believing his own words. "I guess you are telling the truth."

"Yeah." The Nightingale replied, heading towards the door. "Anyway, I guess I'll be going now. Good luck in Solitude."

"Hey." Hadvar called after her. She turned around. "Thank you for telling me. I had no idea… General Tullius will answer to this."

"Don't worry about it." The master thief replied. "And please-if I may-, if you know what's good for you, don't trust that Thalmor associate of yours. He can only mean harm."


	8. Treasure Hunting

**A/N: Hey everybody! First I want to give a big thanks to everyone who's reviewed/followed/favorited/ghosted through this story. Here's the seventh chapter, ready for your enjoyment!**

 **Although there's a bit of an upcoming issue with the update schedule. My job starts up in a week, where I'm working 12 hours a day, and then I have to go through 48 hours straight of working after a week of the 12-hour schedule. Unfortunately, that 48-hour window is going to land two Sundays from now, when I'm supposed to upload Chapter 9. Chapter 9's really important, and I don't want to get bogged down with work without giving it to you. So I'm instead going to upload Chapter 8 on Wednesday, and then Chapter 9 Saturday or Sunday before work really starts up. On Wednesday I'll upload at the regular time, but right now-just enjoy the new chapter!**

* * *

"So this Nightingale believes something important is in Rannveig's Fast?" General Tullius asked, twirling a quill in his fingers. The meeting had already been going on in Castle Dour for two hours. Hadvar was just trying to stall enough time for Quintus to check the scout records.

"Aye, sir." The commander said. "I'm requesting permission for a search-and-recover."

"Well, considering you're doing nothing else in Fort Greymoor," the general replied, finally setting the quill back down. "I guess you can chase after frauds. I don't believe this Nightingale a bit, but I don't have anything better for you to do-and all Legionnaires should be doing _something_."

"Yes, sir." Hadvar didn't know if that was a compliment, or what.

"And the Nightingale isn't visiting the ruin nor she has found anything about the artifact?" Aincatar's voice sounded from the other end of the table. The Altmer had apparently recovered from his humiliation and found a new set of Thalmor robes.

"No, sir." Hadvar replied. He knew lying to a Thalmor agent would probably have some heavy repercussions, but he honestly trusted the Nightingale more than he did Aincatar. Something about the High Elf didn't sit well with him, and it wasn't just the fact that he was a Thalmor.

"Did she tell you this information herself, or did she send an agent? Or a letter?" Aincatar continued his interrogation.

"She sent a letter, sir." Hadvar lied again.

"Hmm." Aincatar scratched his chin. "Doubtful she'll be there herself, then." The Thalmor agent turned to General Tullius. "He can go, since there's no way he can make a mess out of this mission." Aincatar turned and walked out of the war room. Hadvar nearly sighed in irritation. If anyone messed up the Riften mission, it was Aincatar for not being vigilant enough to protect himself.

"Well, I suppose that's taken care of." General Tullius said, standing. He looked over and saw Hadvar still standing in the room. "...Unless there's anything else?" Hadvar straightened himself up. If his father ever saw him doing what he was about to do, he'd get no dinner for a week, maybe more.

"Permission to speak freely, sir." Hadvar began.

"Granted." General Tullius said, cautious.

"The Nightingale said something else in her letter." Hadvar said. "She said Troop IX was tortured to death by the Stormcloaks. She included Anali's necklace as proof. You told me they died quickly in a wagon ambush. Given who was in there, I think I have a right to know which story is true, sir."

"Hadvar." General Tullius said, sighing. "You disappoint me. You know better than to trust a thief's report over a superior officer's. This Nightingale is a filthy, conniving skeever: nothing more. He-she, apparently-most likely found the locket and fabricated the rest of the story. You have more wit than this, Hadvar." Hadvar nodded and respectfully left the castle. He'll have the truth in a little while.

* * *

"Well," Quintus began as he took a seat next to Hadvar in the Winking Skeever. "I see our Thalmor friend has recovered from his fiasco. I saw him in the Castle Dour courtyard today."

"Did he see you?" Hadvar looked up from his drink. Quintus shrugged.

"Doubtful." He said. "And even if he did, I'm just one among many." Quintus limped over to the counter, got a drink, and then sat down at Hadvar's table. He took a swig from his drink.

"So," Hadvar started, unable to wait any longer. "Did you get my letter?"

"That I did." Quintus said, still catching the aftertaste of his ale. "Though I don't understand why you sent me that. You wanted me to look into years old scout records pertaining to Anali's troop? I mean, I know you fell hard when she died, but that was four years ago. What's going on, man? You're worrying me here." Hadvar took a drink from his own mug. He'd missed the taste of Honningbrew Mead. The brand had been too expensive to bring to Fort Greymoor, once the meadery outside Whiterun quickly and _violently_ changed to Black-Briar.

"Don't be, Quintus." Hadvar replied. "I'm just looking for some closure. I've been getting two different accounts on how she died. I'm only trying to separate the truth from the lies." Quintus sighed.

"Did one of those stories come from the Nightingale? I keep telling you, you've got to take what that one says with a grain of salt. You're taking the word of a con artist?"

"She drives a good case." Hadvar rebuked, holding out Anali's necklace. "She gave me this." Quintus peered closer to get a better look.

"I have definitely seen that before." Quintus said.

"Quintus, Anali always wore this necklace." Hadvar said. "The only way the Nightingale would have gotten her hands on this is if she knew Anali. And she was the one to tell me the second story. That doesn't bode well for Anali's last moments. Did you find anything in the records?" Quintus sighed again.

"Yeah, I did." He said, sounding defeated. "I didn't like what I found. Turns out Anali had been taken captive by the Stormcloaks. So whoever told you that was telling the truth." Hadvar stared off into space.

"That was the Nightingale." Hadvar muttered. "Ah, the gods are too cruel."

"Hey man." Quintus said, looking at his friend. "I know it wasn't the answer you were looking for, and I wish it wasn't true, but it is."

"Dying in battle is one thing." Hadvar continued as if he wasn't listening. "But dying in torture is another thing entirely. It's just…"

"Hey." Quintus said, all but waving his arms to get Hadvar's attention. "Don't beat yourself up over this, man. You had nothing to do with it. No matter what happened, Anali's dead and has been dead for four years. Don't get sucked back up into grief. You scared me last time."

"Do you know what this means?" Hadvar asked Quintus. "It means she didn't have to be dead! We could have saved her, we could have taken a regiment and attacked Fort Kastav! She didn't have to be dead." Hadvar took another swig from his mug.

"Hadvar." Quintus said. "What's done is done. There's nothing you can do about it now." Quintus caught Hadvar swaying. "Okay come on. I think that's enough mead for you." Quintus said, pulling Hadvar to his feet. "Time for you to go to bed." Quintus proceeded to half walk, half drag Hadvar to his room.

* * *

Hadvar managed to recover from his drunken stupor and leave the next afternoon. The Nordic architecture of Rannveig's Fast came into his view after his fourth day of travel. The stairs up to the ruin looked clear enough to him, so Hadvar started to climb them. An invisible hand clanked against his chest.

"Don't move." A midnight voice whispered as the Nightingale deactivated her Shadowcloak. She peeked out from her hiding spot behind some rocks. "Something's not right with those stairs." Hadvar took the hint and moved into cover alongside the thief.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. Hadvar hadn't expected to see the Nightingale again, not for a while at least. The Nightingale hardly spared a glance at him, opting instead to focus her gaze on the staircase.

"I told you this plan we uncovered involves taking the Skeleton Key from its seat in the Twilight Sepulcher, right?" She replied. "The Key is my responsibility. It's my job to make sure it stays where it is. So you're stuck with me right now, like it or not." Hadvar blinked.

"You have _responsibilities_?" Hadvar was still trying to work through that tidbit.

"Of _course_ I do!" The Nightingale practically hissed at him. "I'm the head of the Thieves Guild. I have responsibilities galore. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not some morally numb, happy-go-lucky thief." She stared at the stairs for a bit. "Hey, do you see that?" The Nightingale said, pointing at something. Hadvar turned to watch some sort of blue-white wispy substance cross the stairs.

"What was that?" Hadvar asked. He'd hardly seen anything like that before. The Nightingale peered closer when the wisp came into view again.

"I think… it's a ghost." She said. "Strange, it looks like a hunter."

"That's really odd." Hadvar replied. "Aren't draugr the ones tasked with guarding Nordic ruins? What's a hunter's ghost doing here?" He peeked his head up a little higher. "Do you think he's friendly?" The Nightingale cursed and shoved Hadvar's head back down.

"Damn it." She said. "I think he saw you." She turned around to see the ghost draw his bow. "He did, and he's certainly not friendly." She turned back around to face Hadvar, only to find him charging headfirst at the ghost. Hadvar's sword sliced clean through the hunter's ethereal form, leaving nothing behind but a puddle of ectoplasm. The ghost hunter may have been gone, but the commander and the thief still heard his last words in the air. " _I don't want to do this, I'm sorry!_ " rang through the air. Hadvar looked back at the Nightingale, who shrugged. She was gone the next moment. Hadvar turned around to find her two swords slicing through a ghost that had snuck up behind him.

"You seriously need to keep an eye out more." Her midnight voice said, twirling her swords in her hands.

They encountered four more ghosts at the clearing in front of the ruin's gates-all bandits or treasure hunters, and all seemingly fighting against their will. To Hadvar's mild surprise, the Nightingale had his back, taking down her two opponents in a fantastic flow of movement. In comparison, Hadvar's movements were much more... choppy.

When the four ghosts were dispatched, the pair opened the front doors and went inside the ruin. The first part of the place was a winding tunnel, with the occasional subjugated ghost. Hadvar and the Nightingale cut through them easily, and arrived at a large chamber. Crumbling pillars sat around ferns growing in its dead center.

"Okay," Hadvar said as he went down the steps. "Where's the first place we would look for something important in here?"

"I think we should be more focused on identifying traps instead." The Nightingale replied, cautiously looking around. "Nordic ruins are usually filled with that kind of stuff." Hadvar took a quick glance around.

"I don't see anything." He said, shrugging. His eyes spotted a chest sitting next to a fancy wall. "Do you think it's in there?" Hadvar asked, walking towards the chest. The Nightingale turned around from observing some pots. Her silver eyes widened when she realized what he was doing.

"Hadvar, wait!" The thief cried, running towards him. "Don't take another—"

A trapdoor opened underneath the commander, sending him falling through the floor.

"—step." The Nightingale finished, sighing. "What a dimwit." She murmured, moving to take the stairs down into the lower chamber.

* * *

Hadvar fell hard onto his hands and knees. The fall wasn't too far to begin with, but his heavy armor didn't make it pleasant. Luckily Hadvar landed in a pit filled with a foot of water, which softened his fall.

"Oooh, yes, yes!" A gravelly voice said. "You've fallen right into my trap!" Hadvar looked around. He'd fallen into a round cage inside some mage's laboratory. The chamber was littered with aisles of more cages fit to hold people. Some still housed their dead bodies. "Odd you didn't die from the fall, though." The mage on his left kept talking. "Most do." Hadvar hauled himself to his feet and walked up to the cage's door.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Hadvar demanded, trying the door. It wouldn't budge, and the lock was too complicated for him to figure out. He was stuck.

"Who am I?" The mage asked incredulous. He started walking over to his alchemy lab. "Who am I?! I am the great and mighty Sild the Warlock, your new master! As for what I want…" He started rummaging through his bookcase. "I want your unwavering loyalty...as my test subject. Now, where did I put that book?"

"What are you doing?" Hadvar asked, backing away from the warlock.

"Oh, don't worry." The warlock said over his shoulder. "It'll be _relatively_ painless...Ah, here it is." Sild pulled out a runed spellbook and turned back to Hadvar. "Alright, let's-" There was a soft thunk and the book was gone from Sild's hands. The two men looked over to see the Nightingale draw another arrow.

"You must be that sick, torturous warlock I've been hearing about." She spat, raising her bow. "I'd say you let that commander go, or this next arrow won't miss." Sild stared back at her, slowly reaching behind his back. There was one tense moment, and then the warlock leaped to his right. The Nightingale loosed her arrow, but was a hair too late. Sild stood behind Hadvar, putting him between the warlock and the thief.

"Ha!" Sild was delighted. "Two subjects in one day!" He pulled out his staff. "Come here, little birdie." The warlock taunted. "Time to go into your cage."

The Nightingale tossed aside her bow and drew her two swords, sweeping around the cage in mere moments. The warlock tried to hold the distance between the two by shooting fireballs at the Nightingale, but the thief was too fast. She ducked under a fireball and her swords grazed against his staff before he knew it. Sild staggered, but managed to recover enough to maintain the weapon lock.

"You are a sick bastard." The Nightingale hissed. "And I'm going to put you down before you hurt anyone else." Sild grinned, not noticing the frost from the Nightingale's blue glass sword creep up his staff.

"That's what they all say!" Sild frost crept higher.

"Am I 'they all?'" The Nightingale replied. "No. I am Nocturnal's champion, and you are a dead man." With one final push, the Nightingale snapped Sild's stick in half. She quickly swung again, drawing a red line across his chest with her blue sword. The wound was superficial, but the sword's enchantment froze the warlock solid. Sild's balance tipped, and he fell onto his back. The Nightingale twirled her other, darker blade and plunged it into his chest. Sild was no more.

"You okay?" The thief asked as she pulled her black blade out of Sild's chest. Hadvar nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine." The commander replied. He shifted his feet and kicked something. "But I think I found the artifact." The Nightingale swiped a key out of the warlock's pockets and looked at him.

"And where would that be?" She asked. Hadvar shoved his hand under the water and pulled out an icy blue dragon's claw. "Yeah, that would be it." The Nightingale said as she opened the cage door. Hadvar looked back at the ornament and shrugged. One of the treasure hunters must have come across it somehow and left it in the cage when they died.

"Right." Hadvar said, pocketing the artifact and walking out of the cage. "Thanks for your help. I owe you one." Hadvar wasn't a fool-he knew he'd be dead if the Nightingale hadn't come for him. He never thought he'd see the day when he owed his life to a crime boss.

"Don't mention it." The Nightingale said as she plucked her bow off of the floor. "So now that you have your shiny new object, what are you going to do with it?"

"Well," Hadvar began. "The Legion's going to want to take a look at this, so I guess I'll have to hit the libraries and do some research."

"Sounds good." The Nightingale replied. "I'll leave you to it." There was a flash of purple and the thief was instantly invisible. "Although do me a favor and don't mention me to Aincatar. He'll make my life a complete mess if you do." Hadvar nodded, sure the Nightingale was watching him from somewhere. It was the least he could do when she saved his life.


	9. The Thieves Guild

**A/N: Hey everybody! A big thanks to everyone who's reviewed/favorited/followed/ghosted. Chapter 8, told entirely from the eyes of the Nightingale, is up and ready! This is mainly set-up for the big Chapter 9 on Sunday. I still don't know exactly when I'm getting off work that night, but I doubt it's before 9. I'm going to estimate that it will be up anywhere between 10 and 12am, so look for it around then. Until then, enjoy Chapter 8!**

* * *

"'Sometimes the locks have weird springs.'" The Nightingale read aloud. "'They all spring differently, which makes picking it hard. I hold my torch next to the lock. This makes it hot. When it's hot, the springs are all the same.'" She paused, snickered, then continued reading. "'Be careful not to burn yourself.'" The master thief paused again, reading the next few lines to herself. She shut _Advances in Lockpicking_ closed and turned to glare at her fellow Guildmate. "You told me you couldn't read, Thrynn."

"Huh?" The semi-reformed bandit replied, disentangling his sword from the practice dummy. "That's because I can't?" The Nightingale shook her head fondly and opened back up to the last few lines.

"'Some thieves can't read.'" She continued reading. "'If you can't read, get someone to read this book to you. It will make more sense then.'" The Guildmaster closed the book again and put it back on the nearby barrel. "And then you just happened to ask me to read that to you. You wouldn't have asked if you couldn't read those last few sentences." Thrynn shrugged.

"So maybe I could understand it a bit." He said, finally freeing his sword. Grain flowed out of the practice dummy, making a huge mess on the floor. "But I didn't get the rest of it." The Nightingale rolled her eyes and dragged the former bandit out of the grain pile.

"So just keep trying." She said, brushing grain off of her armor. "I bet you're better at reading than you think you are." The master thief walked off and into the central cistern chamber. "Clean that up." She called over her shoulder. "Or Niruin's going to have your head."

The Nightingale crossed into the Cistern's main chamber to find Sapphire squatting at the water's edge, gingerly poking the water. Curious, the master thief approached the Guildmate and sat down.

"Is there any particular reason you're poking the water with your finger?" The Nightingale put her hands on her hips. "It's plenty warm, if that's what you're wondering." Sapphire sent a worried glance at the Nightingale.

"I'm checking for snakes." The woman said, hushed. "Do you think there's any in here?"

"No!" The Nightingale exclaimed. "Of course not. There have never been any snakes in the Cistern's ponds. What on Nirn led you to believe that?" Sapphire let out an annoyed growl.

"Damn it, Cynric." Sapphire said, scowling. "The next time I see him, I'll have his head."

"Don't go doing that." The Nightingale said, chuckling. "That means less coin in your pocket. And if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're afraid of snakes." Sapphire leapt out of her spot, fidgeting.

"N-no I'm not. The woman defended. "I was just trying to make sure the others wouldn't get bitten!" The Nightingale turned around, rolling her eyes.

"Sure, sure." She said. " _Whatever_ you say." Her silver eyes caught a black hood moving through the clouded quarters. "Hey!" She called. "Cynric! Stop telling people there's snakes in the water!" The professional jailbreaker's response was to grumble and stick his tongue out. "I think he likes you." The Nightingale said, turning back to Sapphire. "And not for nothing, I think you should look into that. It might help you get over things." Sapphire scoffed.

"No." Sapphire said. "He can suck his own dick." The Nightingale laughed heartily. "But you should eat your own advice." Sapphire continued.

"I know." The Nightingale said, sighing. "I'm not exactly the best example here. But I get where you're coming from. After something like that happens to you, it's hard to let someone in."

"Yeah." Sapphire agreed. "I guess we're all pretty screwed up down here."

"Guess so." The Nightingale said. "Anyway, I've got to go do some ledger work, so I'm off. Think about what I said, though." The Guildmaster stood up and walked off.

* * *

That night, Riften was visited by a regular shadow. The Nightingale darted across the rooftops, with a second thief in tow. They reached the targeted house and silently slid down to the ground.

"All right, Etienne." The Nightingale said, handing him a few lockpicks. "Show me what you're made of. I need to know all your strengths and weaknesses if the Guild's going to get the most out of you."

"You got it, madam." The scrawny thief replied as he knelt in front of the lock. The Nightingale heard a crack a few moments later and saw Etienne reach for another pick. She searched his facial expression. No signs of panic after the first one broke-that's a good sign for a thief. It meant Etienne didn't scare easily. The lock opened after a few more picks. Etienne looked at the Nightingale, who gave him an encouraging nod. Etienne cracked the door to Aerin's house open and swept in, with the Nightingale following closely behind.

"Okay." The master thief began. "Vex says there's three valuable objects here-two on the top floor and one on the bottom. You take the upper floors. I'll cover your back and clear this level." Etienne gave a quick nod and silently bounded up the stairs, while the Nightingale began to scan the ground floor. There wasn't much to see-the ground floor was mapped out more like a hallway than a room. There was a wicker chair in the corner, two cupboards on each wall, and the stairs to the second floor and basement.

It didn't take the Nightingale long at all to locate the bejeweled, gilded vase. It was perfectly centered on one of the cupboards, almost asking to be taken. The master thief scooped up the target and started to move toward the stairs. She stopped and looked up at the landing. _Looks like Etienne's not finished yet,_ She thought to herself. _I wonder if I have enough time to check out the basement?_

Opting to take the chance, the Nightingale slid down the stair railing and into the house's basement. A quick glance around left her disappointed. Aerin's basement had barrels and cupboards that stored foodstuffs, not safes that held exotic jewelry. The Nightingale despondently grabbed a potato and decided to head back up to the ground floor to wait for Etienne. After a few moments of listening, the Nightingale could pick out the new thief's light footsteps. She listened to the slight creaking of the old wooden floors as Etienne started to make his way back to the stairs. The Nightingale looked up at the bottom of the 2nd floor and noticed a patch of planks acting...off. They seemed more rotted than the others, creaked more loudly and kicked up sawdust.

So she shouldn't have been all that surprised that the floor/ceiling caved in when Etienne stepped on one of the planks. But she still was. The Nightingale barely had the time to leap back before Etienne fell into where she was standing moments before.

After one lengthy heartbeat, the Nightingale's head shot up when she heard footsteps coming from the second floor. The thief looked at her partner, who was trying in vain to stand up. The Nightingale turned back around to come face to face with a seething Mjoll the Lioness. The Nordic she-warrior let out an enraged cry as she raised her battleaxe. The Nightingale barely had the time to unsheathe Chillrend and scrape its edge along a gap in Mjoll's armor. The enchantment on the blade seeped into the warrior's blood, but the Nightingale didn't have the time to watch as Mjoll froze solid. The master thief scooped Etienne up and was out the door before the frostbite enchantment wore off.

The Nightingale set Etienne down once they were both safe in the Ratway. A look at his ankle told her that Etienne had sprained it. The Nightingale whipped out a bandage and quickly set the joint. She helped him up to his feet and led him back to the Guild's Cistern. Brynjolf walked up to the Nightingale once she had set Etienne down on his bed.

"Hey, lass." He started, giving a look at Etienne. "What happened with the job?" The Nightingale huffed and put her hands on her hips.

"Riften's ancient architecture is really getting to me." The master thief replied. "All it took was a single misstep and the ceiling was coming down. At least we finished the job." The Nightingale tossed the bag of goods at a passing Vex. "Etienne here managed to sprain his ankle when he fell."

"I'm sorry." Etienne butted in. "I didn't see those rotted planks…"

"Don't worry about it." The Nightingale called over her shoulder. "The job's done and neither of us got caught. That all that matters." Brynjolf nodded in agreement.

"By the way, lass." He began. "Remember those two Legionairres? A message from one of them came in. I left it on your desk." The Nightingale gave a curt nod and walked over to the Guildmaster desk and picked up the letter. Its contents were both short and to the point.

" _We need to meet. I need your help again._ "

The Nightingale crumbled the note and sighed. Hadvar certainly is direct.


	10. Revelations

**Here we are, everyone! Chapter 9 is here. I want to give a big thanks to everyone who's supported me so far—this chapter is a huge milestone to the fic. Here the identity of the Nightingale is revealed, and we're introduced to a bigger picture of what's been going on. Chapter 10 will expand on questions presented here, but that probably won't be uploaded until Saturday night. After that I'll need to take a break for a week or two, but I'll have that figured out by the next update. For now, enjoy the new chapter!**

 **If you're hurting for things to do—you can go back and reread the previous chapters when you're done with this one. Some of the scenes are engineered to have a totally different meaning once you know who the Nightingale is.**

* * *

"No luck?" The Nightingale asked as Hadvar entered Dustman's Cairn. She'd asked to meet there thanks to the fact she was a wanted criminal. Hadvar shook his head.

"None at all." The commander replied, tossing the hefty claw at the thief. "There's absolutely nothing on it in the libraries. Of course it would help knowing what that thing is made out of." The Nightingale rubbed her thumb over the icy blue surface. She winced and pulled it away.

"Well, we have one mystery solved." The Nightingale said, rubbing her thumb on her armor. "The darn claw is made out of some form of enchanted stalhrim." Hadvar was confused.

"Stalhrim?" Hadvar asked, slightly cocking his head. "The indestructible ice from Solstheim? How can you tell?"

"It's expensive." The master thief replied. "And everything expensive passes through the black market at some point. I've seen enough stalhrim to identify it now. It has this funny habit of nearly freezing your fingers."

"So the door it unlocks is all the way in Solstheim?" Hadvar asked.

"Gods, I hope not." The Nightingale rolled her eyes. "I'm really not a boat person. Besides, I'm not entirely sure it's even a key. Take a look at the underside." She handed the claw back to the commander. Hadvar flipped the ornament over to find no carvings on the dragon's palm.

"There's no combination." Hadvar remarked. "Then how on Nirn does it open the door?"

"Damned if I know." The Nightingale said, shrugging. "Maybe it's got something to do with that odd enchantment. Personally I think it's a step in the right direction, putting the combination on the key seemed a little...silly."

"So we don't know where this door is, what it looks like, or how it opens." Hadvar summarized. "That's just great. How on Nirn are we supposed to find it?"

"Maybe it's not even a door." The Nightingale said. "It could be something else entirely."

"Just great. We have absolutely no leads." Hadvar sighed. The Nightingale looked past Hadvar's shoulder.

"Maybe not." The master thief gestured behind the commander. Hadvar turned around to find a spectral shade staring at the two. Or rather, the horse was doing the staring. Its rider had no head.

"Is that the Headless Horseman?" Hadvar asked. "As in the old Ragnar the Red?"

"Well, that's common belief." The Nightingale replied. "But that's not actually Ragnar the Red. It's the ghost of a monster hunter who was beheaded on horseback by his prey." The horseman's horse continued to stare.

"Isn't he supposed to go away after a while?" Hadvar asked, unsettled.

"Right." The Nightingale tilted her head slightly. "He is, but he's not moving." She observed the ghost for a moment. "It's almost as if he's trying to tell us something." She moved past Hadvar and closer to the shade. The ghost's horse brayed. Realization dawned on her.

"What if we're hunting the same creature that beheaded him, and he's trying to tell us that?" The Nightingale wondered aloud, turning back to Hadvar. "It makes sense." The Headless Horseman reared his spectral horse and took off, leaving the Nightingale and Hadvar in the dust. The duo instantly leapt onto their horses, the Nightingale onto her mottled mare and Hadvar to his black steed. They rode hard, chasing the speck of blue in the distance.

* * *

After an hour or so of following the shade, they came to an old Nordic ruin. The Headless Horseman trotted to the center of the courtyard and vanished, leaving the two living beings alone. The Nightingale dismounted her horse and looked around.

"This is Hamvir's Rest." The commander said, dismounting from his own horse. "Why on Nirn would he lead us here?"

"I have no idea." The Nightingale replied, looking around. "Maybe the place is important or something." She thought for a bit. "Check the claw and see if it's doing anything." Hadvar fumbled through his pockets and pulled out the icy ornament.

"I don't see any change." The commander reported. The Nightingale shrugged.

"Well, we might as well secure the area." She said, starting to power walk around the rim of the graveyard.

"What are you doing?" Hadvar asked.

"Checking for traps." The Nightingale replied, barely paying him any heed. "We both know your aptitude for falling into them."

"Why even check for me in the first place?" Hadvar asked. The Nightingale froze in place for a heartbeat, but the vulnerability was gone as soon as it had come.

"You're more helpful to me alive than dead." The Nightingale resumed walking. "So I might as well make sure you stay that way." Hadvar shrugged and went back to observing his surroundings. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary, so he just started walking. Unlike the route the Nightingale took, Hadvar blundered straight towards the center of the circular courtyard.

Within moments of walking around, the claw in Hadvar's hand began to glow. Hadvar didn't know what to do, so he simply stared at the ornament like a confused puppy. The Nightingale walked over and gently took the icy claw from the commander's hands, placing it into a crevice in the wall. The wall glowed as an ear-piercing pitch rang throughout the ruin. The sound grew higher and higher as Hadvar quickly realized what was about to happen. Without thinking, he tackled the Nightingale to the ground, letting his heavy armor protect the both of them. The wall erupted into flying rubble, raining down on the two. The Nightingale scrambled out of Hadvar's grasp as soon as the rain of rock had finished.

"You okay?" Hadvar asked as he rolled his shoulders, making sure they weren't dislocated.

"I-I'm fine." The Nightingale replied, her voice shaking and directed more to herself than the commander. Her back was to Hadvar, but he could still see her wringing her hands. "You?" Hadvar gave a silent nod. He gazed at where the wall once was.

"I guess we now know how it works." Hadvar said, looking at the underground staircase. The Nightingale numbly nodded, still reeling from whatever was bothering her. She shook it off, instead deciding to concentrate on the newly discovered staircase.

"We should be the first ones here." The master thief began to descend down the stairs. "But stay alert just in case." Hadvar nodded as he followed the Nightingale down the stairs.

The spiral staircase quickly descended into darkness. Hadvar lit a torch, but the Nightingale was quick to avoid its light. The staircase led to a long corridor followed by a circular chamber, lit with a kind of purple glow. On a stand in the center of the chamber stood an odd altar. Hadvar walked closer to get a better look.

"Is that… a bone?" Hadvar wondered aloud, gazing at the massive hunk of marrow. The Nightingale vaporized out of the shadows to join him at the altar.

"It looks like it." The master thief responded, leaning in to examine the object more closely. "Whatever this belonged to must have been huge."

"But why is something like this down here?" Hadvar asked. "I mean, the architects who built the claw and this place seemed Oblivion bent on hiding this chamber so well."

"I have no clue." The Nightingale cocked her ebony-cloaked head. "Do you think it belonged to our mystery creature?" Hadvar chuckled.

"If it did, then I don't think we need to worry much about it." The commander figured this creature must be very, _very_ dead by now.

"Well, there is this little thing called necromancy." The Nightingale quipped back, moving to examine the nearby candles. "So don't go ruling out the dead."

Hadvar opened his mouth to speak, but was instantly cut off. An ebony hand wrapped around his mouth as the Nightingale dragged him and all his heavy armor into a corner.

"Someone's coming." The Nightingale hissed. Hadvar listened. Only after several seconds did he make out the ever so faint footsteps. How the Nightingale heard that before he did was beyond him. Several more seconds of waiting produced a tall man in black robes. Very familiar black robes. Ones with gold embroidery.

With a crooked smile, Aincatar turned to face the shadows.

"I know you're there." The Thalmor said. "Come out, come out, wherever you are." Hadvar was about to move, but the Nightingale held him down. Aincatar waited patiently before walking up to the altar and picking up the bone. "Well." Aincatar continued. "If you won't come out, Nightingale, then I guess you don't mind me taking this." Aincatar turned to leave, but came face to face with Hadvar.

"Where do you think you're going with that?" The hulking Nord asked. Aincatar flashed a toothy smile. The Altmer reached for his dragonbone dagger when the Nightingale shot out of the shadows and tackled him to the ground. The master thief scrambled off the man as quickly as she had attacked him, placing herself between the Altmer and Hadvar. Aincatar looked between the two.

"I should have known you'd follow us, Aincatar." The Nightingale growled. The Thalmor agent tsked.

"That's a rather uncommon mistake for you, little birdy." Aincatar said as he straightened himself back up. "You're usually far more vigilant than this. Could it be that you're slightly...distracted?" The Thalmor's eyes moved to Hadvar. The Nightingale visibly stiffened.

"Leave him alone." The master thief said, placing a protective arm in front of Hadvar. "He's not a part of this."

"That's where you're wrong, girl." Aincatar replied. "You _made_ him a part of this. That commander was integral to our little war ever since you tipped him off. You let your feelings cloud your judgement, Nightingale. Don't think I didn't notice." Hadvar was very confused. Clearly there was something about their situation that he didn't know. He looked closer at Aincatar. There was something...off about him. Something he hadn't noticed before. But he couldn't figure out exactly what.

"Ahem." The commander said, clearing his throat. "Does someone want to clue me in?"

"I'll tell you later." The Nightingale snapped back. "Now's not the time. Right now we need to stop Aincatar from making off with that bone."

"Right." Hadvar said, drawing his sword. "I trust you. Whatever that elf plans on doing with that can't be good."

"'This elf' has intentions low-borns such as yourselves can't possibly fathom." Aincatar replied, crossing his arms.

"I think I very much understand." The Nightingale responded, drawing her two swords. "How about we start with the fact you're a servitor of Mannimarco?" Aincatar looked back at the Nightingale. "And then there's your, well, Stormcloak ties. Don't go thinking I don't know about that." Aincatar took a step back, eyeing the both of them.

"So I guess you won't just let me walk off." The Altmer said, sighing. "Well, sweetheart, it's been a good chase. But you have a certain Key I need, and you're in my way." Aincatar swung his dagger through where the Nightingale was, but the thief had already activated her Shadowcloak and dove out of harm's way. The dagger harmlessly bounced off of Hadvar's heavy Imperial armor. The commander's quick shield bash knocked the Altmer against the wall as Hadvar drew his sword. The hulking Nord drove his blade through the Altmer's heart, pinning his body to the wooden support in the wall. Aincatar let out a cry and Hadvar looked up to find dead eyes. Hadvar let out a breath and stepped back, figuring Aincatar was dead.

But the elf's eyes fluttered back to life.

In one fluid motion, the Thalmor drew the Imperial sword out of his chest and used it to knock down an invisible Nightingale. Aincatar raised his other hand at the commander and a massive force of magicka slammed into Hadvar's chest. The force of the impact sent Hadvar flying into the wall behind him. Part of the wall crumbled, pinning him in place. Aincatar charged a shock spell in his hands, with the clear intent of hitting the commander full force. Hadvar closed his eyes and heard the roar of shock magic and a cry, but he felt no pain. The cackle stopped and Hadvar cracked his eyes open in time to see the Nightingale fall to her knees in front of him, panting. _Did she take the entire blow for me?_ Hadvar wondered. _Why? I thought she only cared for herself._ His thoughts were interrupted by Aincatar's cackle.

"I thought so." He said to the fabled thief. "The stone-cold Nightingale has a soft spot for the commander." Aincatar stepped closer, but the Nightingale couldn't move. He turned to Hadvar. "Any idea why?" Hadvar remained silent. Aincatar's face broke into a sadistic grin. "You honestly don't know." He said. "After all this time traveling with her, you still have no idea who she is. Well then, let me show you." Aincatar grabbed the Nightingale's hood and tore it off. He kicked the woman in the chin, sending her falling onto her back and looking straight at Hadvar.

He recognized her instantly. Hadvar had seen that face a thousand times: those perfectly rounded lips, her black-as-night hair, that nearly flawless skin. Hadvar could only think of one name.

"Anali?"


	11. Questions

**A/N: Hello everyone! A big thanks to everybody who's ghosted/favorite/reviewed/followed this story! Chapter 10 is out a day early because I'm working for 48 hours straight starting at 5am tonight (wish me luck), so updating tomorrow is out of the question. After that school starts and we're hitting the part of the story that needs a little extra work, so a hiatus is coming up either this update or the next. I'm going to try to have Chapter 11 out next Sunday at the regular time, but if it's not out by then I'll have to wait until that next Sunday. I'm sorry about the lack of specifics this time around, but I'd rather improve the upcoming chapters for maximum enjoyment then just send them out half-finished. But until then, enjoy the new chapter!**

* * *

She had changed. The verdant green eyes Hadvar once remembered were now an unnatural black-violet. Thin black paint slid from the bridge of her nose down to her cheeks, just touching a claw-shaped scar on her left cheekbone. Her shorter black hair was tied into a ponytail instead of her usual free flowing locks.

"You okay?" Anali asked, still looking up at the commander. Without the scrambler, her voice was exactly how he had remembered it. Gods how he had missed that melodious sound. Anali's sigh brought him back to reality. She rolled over onto her hands and knees, but Aincatar grabbed the back of her collar and shoved her against the wall. The Altmer looked back at Hadvar.

"You weren't expecting that, were you Commander?" Aincatar asked. "She's clever like that. Very clever." He pushed harder, pressing Anali up against the wall. "But I'm better." The Altmer continued. "When you live as long as I have, you learn how to deal with skeevers like her. Wait patiently, look for a mistake, and then exploit it to no end. It was fascinating just how fast she unraveled once I brought you into the fray." Aincatar's monologue was cut short when Anali wrenched her hand free and shot a fire spell over her shoulder. Aincatar yelped as a ball of fire engulfed his arm, effectively freeing the thief. Anali leapt out of Aincatar's grasp and dove for her swords. The elf charged a second shock spell, with the clear intent of hitting the thief. But instead of diving out of the way, Anali didn't move. Aincatar fired his spell, and Anali ducked. Aincatar's blast slammed into the wall behind her, and the thief was gone in a matter of moments. The elf glanced around the chamber, but the Nightingale had disappeared into the shadows.

It only took a heartbeat for the agent to locate Anali. Aincatar whipped around and tried to fire another spell, but Hadvar had hauled himself off the rocks and slammed his shield into the high elf. Aincatar stumbled to the ground, and Anali took the opportunity to grab Hadvar's forearm and make a break for the exit. They had made it out of the chamber and onto the hill outside Dustmain's Cairn when a bolt of lightning slammed into Anali from behind. She tumbled into the barrow below. Hadvar jumped in afterwards to take cover from Aincatar's arcane barrage. No sooner had the soldier's boots hit the ground had Anali's head snapped up. Her violet eyes flashed as she shot a purplish spell at him, and Hadvar's vision went black.

* * *

He awoke again to the sound of water crashing on rocks. His eyes cracked open and he was greeted by a hummingbird prodding his chest. Hadvar waved his hand and the hummingbird dashed off.

The soldier sat himself up and examined his surroundings. He was inside a sort of ice-laden cave, its mouth facing the Sea of Ghosts. _That must be where the sound of water was coming from_ , he thought to himself. _But how on Nirn did I get here?_ Hadvar furrowed his eyebrows, trying to recall his previous memories. He remembered finding the bone and running into Aincatar. He remembered getting pinned against the wall and Anali grabbing his forearm…

 _Anali._

Hadvar's head whipped around the cave, looking for the Nightingale's inky form. He found her unconscious a few feet away from him, lying supine and her head tilted towards the wall. The last spell she fired had used the rest of her energy. Hadvar scooted to the woman's side, eager to confirm it was really her. His hand came up to her familiar chin, tilting her head to face him. The woman didn't stir, but it was definitely Anali. Hadvar marveled at her succulent lips, her crow's black hair, her beautiful jawline. Anali's features were just how Hadvar had remembered them. But then his finger grazed against the peculiar scar on her left cheekbone, one that wasn't there before. Hadvar's eyes dragged to the thin black war paint that slid down from the bridge of her nose to her cheekbones. Well, _almost_ everything. The markings and scar were new. Hadvar's eyes moved down to the symbol emblazoned on Anali's chest, and his brow furrowed in confusion. His girl as the Nightingale didn't make sense. The Anali he knew would never steal, especially at the skill the Nightingale had. She was a Legionnaire, for Talos' sake! What on Nirn was going on?

Hadvar sat back on his knees, his head swimming with so many questions and no way to answer them. He would have to wait for Anali to wake up in order to get at the real truth. In the meantime, Hadvar would have to find a way to busy himself until she did. The commander hoisted himself back onto his feet, rolling his aching shoulders. Aincatar's magic certainly packed a punch. Hadvar had never before seen a mage that could pin a fully grown man against the wall with a flick of his hand. The elf's power was extraordinary...and unnatural.

Hadvar walked outside to observe his surroundings. The Sea of Ghosts was only a few hilltops away and the commander could see a herd of horkers by the shore. There were only three of the beasts-and though he didn't want to leave Anali unguarded, Hadvar knew they needed to find food soon. It didn't take him long to slide down the icy hills and come face to face with the tiny herd. The horkers brayed and bared their tusks once they caught sight of him. Hadvar slowed his approach and put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He was no hunter. He knew he had no chance of sneaking up on them. Havdar would have to do this the hard way.

Three horker fights later, Hadvar was carrying several cuts of horker meat back to the cave. He was starving, and he was sure Anali would be too when she woke up. He recalled Anali's favorite food was horker meat, but he didn't know if that had changed over the years. Already he wasn't liking how things were shaping up. Anali was declared dead four years ago. The Nightingale has been around for only two of those years. That left the other half of her disappearance unaccounted for, and what had happened in that time was anyone's guess.

Hadvar plopped the horker meat onto the icy ground as he piled the firewood he'd gathered. A glance at Anali's still figure told the commander she hadn't woken up yet. It wasn't until the horker meat was halfway cooked that Anali's brow finally twitched. Hadvar looked up from the fire when her brows creased together and her head rocked from side to side. The small movements turned to thrashing, and Hadvar realized Anali was having a nightmare rather than waking up.

"Hey." Hadvar said, gently shaking Anali's shoulders. When she didn't respond, Hadvar tried again. "Anali! Wake up, you're okay!" Anali sat up with a start, eyes wide and chest heaving. Her violet irises dragged across the cave as Anali tried to reorient herself from whatever she had dreamt about. They fell on Hadvar, and he could see a wave of emotion cross her face. Anali's features fell into brief confusion, and then into understanding.

"My hood's off, isn't it?" She said, cocking an eyebrow at Hadvar's bewildered expression. Hadvar responded with a nod and Anali fell back onto the cot. "Then I owe you some answers, don't I?" Anali said as she buried her eyes in the crook of her elbow. Hadvar gave a large huff and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Why?" Hadvar asked.

"Why what?" The Nightingale replied, not moving a muscle.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hadvar blurted. Anali took her arm away from her eyes and looked up at the commander. She didn't give a response, allowing Hadvar to continue. "You've been alive all this time?" Hadvar continued on. "Why in Oblivion didn't you come and find me? Do you have any idea what living without you's been like? What I've been through?" Anali's jaw clenched ever so slightly.

"I'm sure I can just ask Ysolda." Anali quipped as she sat herself back up. Hadvar visibly flinched.

"Hey, come on." He protested. "That's not fair. I thought you were-"

"Dead, I know." Anali cut him off and rose to her feet. "I get that part. Seems like everyone thinks that way."

"So why didn't you tell us otherwise?" Hadvar asked again, exasperated. Anali drew a tired sigh.

"You're missing the big picture here, Hadvar." Anali replied. "I was a wanted woman right out of the gate. Things only got worse once Aincatar got involved. You have no idea how far that damned elf would go to get rid of me. Trust me, you were better off not knowing I was alive. He'd have beaten the info out of you."

"I can take him." Hadvar protested, rolling his shoulders and lifting his chin. His remark earned him a raised eyebrow from Anali.

"Yeah sure, smartypants." The thief quipped, smiling slightly. "Let's take a look at how that last attempt ended up."

"Okay," Hadvar said, his posture drooping. "Maybe not. But the Nightingale's only been around for two years. Why couldn't you contact me before then?"

"Well, I didn't just spontaneously become the Nightingale." Anali chuckled. "It took me a little over half a year to get there. As for the remaining sixteen months…" She trailed off, moving to the mouth of the cave to stare out at the sea. Anali sighed. "The story I told you before was real. Well, _most_ of it. The only lie was that I never had a cellmate and I never commited suicide. But gods, was I close." The woman gave a dry chuckle. "I had that gods-forsaken, rusty nail to my throat when all the cell doors on my block swung open. Turns out one of my Guild thieves was in the fort performing one of his jailbreaks. He freed all the other prisoners to confuse the guards." Anali paused to take another breath.

"And then for some reason I decided I didn't want to give up. I don't know how or why I came to that conclusion, and I don't think I'm supposed to know. Something made me get up and follow Cynric to the Nightgate Inn. I don't remember much of the rest, but I do remember waking up in the Flagon. And that's how I joined the Thieves Guild."

Hadvar walked up behind Anali and put his hand on her shoulder. He didn't know what else to do. Anali briefly tensed at the unexpected contact, but then she cast a quick glance at him and relaxed.

"So that robbery at Jorrvaskr," Hadvar began. "That was you?"

Anali looked at him and gave a slight nod.

"And that Orc stronghold in the Reach. That was you, too?" Anali nodded again.

"That one was certainly exciting." She commented. "It took some creativity to get past the guards there."

"And the vampire coven?" Anali nodded yet again. Hadvar's eyebrows raised. He couldn't believe his girl could be so good at thievery.

"I'd never tried it before." Anali said, reading his thoughts like she always had. "Honestly, none were more surprised than myself when I figured out I can do these things." Hadvar pulled Anali a little closer. To his mild surprise, her confession as the Nightingale hardly bothered him. So what if she was a thief? Anali was alive. Alive! He couldn't believe it. After all those years...Hadvar's grief over her death seemed like a distant memory. He was one lucky man.

"So…" Anali said, peeking out the mouth of the cavern. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

"That's the Sea of Ghosts." Hadvar gestured to the blue expanse in the horizon. "Which means we're close to Windhelm and deep in Stormcloak territory. We'll have to move carefully if we don't want to attract rebel attention."

"Right." Anali affirmed, heading back into the cave and scooping up her Nightingale hood. "I think we should stay here for now until we've figured out a game plan." Anali continued as she stuffed the hood into one of her pockets. "Are you hungry?"

"Food's over here." Hadvar replied, gesturing to the horker meat on the fire pit. Anali strode over to the fire and squatted down, examining the food. She plucked a cut of horker meat from the spit and took a small bite. She laughed, smiling knowingly.

"You didn't salt the meat, did you?"


	12. Making Tracks Home

**A/N: Hey everyone! I want to give a big thanks to everybody who's ghosted/reviewed/followed/favorited. I apologize for my unexpected absence—a bunch of personal stuff kept me from editing this chapter and posting it. But I'm back and here's the 11** **th** **chapter! The next chapter will be out in about two weeks.**

* * *

"It'll be fine, don't worry." Hadvar's fingers rapped against his beloved armor. Anali gave him the old you're-an-idiot look.

"I don't think so." She rebuked, putting her hands on her hips. "That's Legion armor. It's going to act as a giant 'kill me' sign to the Stormcloaks. Take it off."

"But then what am I going to protect myself with?" Hadvar groaned.

"Me." Anali said as she tossed breeches and a shirt at Hadvar. He caught it and held the shirt up to the firelight.

"This is a really nice shirt." The commander commented. "Where did you get it?" Anali smirked as she leaned against the cavern wall.

"Well, I didn't exactly _buy_ it." Anali said. "Let's just say someone woke up wondering where their shirt went." Hadvar blinked as what she was insinuating sunk in.

"You mean you stole this off of someone's _back_?" Hadvar asked, impressed. "How is that even _possible_?" Anali smiled, the light from the fire catching her new scar.

"It's actually pretty easy once you know what you're doing. All it takes is a little luck and a pair of _really_ deft hands." She started to rummage through her pack. "Let's see what else I have in here…" Anali pulled out a potato. "You want a snack?" Hadvar glanced at the vegetable.

"No thanks." Hadvar turned his attention to putting out the fire. Anali looked at the potato and shrugged.

"Your loss." Anali took a bite. Hadvar turned to look back at her figure.

"Hey, don't you need to change or something too?" He asked. But Anali only shook her head.

"I can turn invisible, remember?" The woman said as she checked her swords. "Plus, everyone's still convinced I'm a guy. So I'm good." Hadvar frowned; Anali did have a point. He imagined she also had years of stealth experience to fall back on. He'd take her word on the subject over his own.

"So I'll be talking to myself the whole way there?" He asked. Anali put her hands on her hips.

"No, you'll be talking to me." She clarified. "You'll just _look_ like you're talking to yourself." She gave one last look over the cave, making sure they didn't leave a trace of evidence behind. "You ready to go?" Anali asked as she donned her hood.

* * *

Hadvar was not a happy camper. After growing up in the temperate Whiterun Hold and being stationed at Fort Greymoor, he had forgotten how frigid the Pale was. The fact that he wasn't wearing his insulated heavy armor didn't help. Neither was the heavy snowfall and powerful wind.

"I wish I had my armor…" Hadvar muttered to himself. A still visible Anali looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Hadvar, it's been five minutes." She said, exasperated. "And this is your fifth complaint. Come on, you can do this." Anali patted his shoulder. Hadvar took another look at Anali's features. Even though it was freezing out and she was wearing only light padding, Anali didn't seem cold at all. In fact, she looked like she could have been in the hot springs in Eastmarch. Hadvar furrowed his eyebrows.

"Aren't you cold?" He decided to ask. But Anali only shrugged.

"I'm fine." She replied. "The cold doesn't get to me anymore."

"So you travel by here a lot?" Hadvar asked innocently. He waited for a reply, but there was none. The commander looked over at the Nightingale to find her staring off into the snow, almost entirely unaware of Hadvar.

"Ani?" He gave her a slight nudge. Anali recoiled slightly, sharply shaking her head.

"Sorry." She muttered. "Lost in thought. Yeah, you could say I've been here a lot." Hadvar put an arm around her shoulder. Anali tensed, but otherwise said nothing. Hadvar let the gesture slide and they carried on.

* * *

"So…" Hadvar began once they sat down for lunch break. "You said you were going to be invisible for this trip. So why can I still see you?" Anali smirked.

"While that Shadowcloak lets me turn invisible, there's not much I can do if it's interrupted." She replied. "After that, I have to wait a full day before I can use it again."

"So it broke when Aincatar shoved you?" Hadvar asked. Anali nodded.

"Yeah, it seems like he picked up a detect life spell." She said, scratching the back of her neck. "He's gotten better since I last faced him."

"Speaking of, why did he live through my sword stab?"

"He's a lich." Anali replied, casually examining her cut of steak.

"A what?"

"Lich. They're essentially strengthened, undead mages who've pledged loyalty to Mannimarco. Lichs haven't been really common in the last couple of centuries."

"Mannimarco?" Hadvar repeated, his face distorted in confusion. Anali blinked, dropping her steak back onto her plate.

" _The_ Mannimarco." Anali replied. "The King of Worms? Come on, Hadvar. You've had to have heard that name somewhere." Hadvar shook his head and Anali's eyebrows raised. She froze for a moment, then her facial features clicked in realization. "Right…" Anali muttered, looking back down at her dinner. "I keep forgetting. You never learned this stuff. He's the father of necromancy." She explained. "The first ever to cheat death by becoming a lich. The Order of the Black Worm worships him as a god."

"Lichs are undead, right?" Hadvar asked. Anali nodded. "So if Aincatar's a lich, then how come his face isn't gross?" Anali chuckled at his choice of words.

"It's a different technique." Anali took a bite of her steak. "Some lichs can maintain a mortal facade, almost like a mask. It's not what they really look like though."

"So he still looks gross?"

"Yes." Anali's scar twitched as she smiled. "He still looks gross." The next half hour passed in comfortable silence. Hadvar looked at her from across the fire.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask." Hadvar began. Anali looked up from her baked potato.

"Ask away." Anali replied.

"You sent me those blueprints, right?" Hadvar said. Anali nodded. "So why did you set the Stormcloaks on the fort?" Anali blinked, then her eyes widened in realization.

"That wasn't me." She clarified, putting her fork down. "Here's what was really happening: I intercepted some Stormcloaks and found those blueprints. I let you know about it. Then Aincatar figured out what I did and tipped off the Stormcloaks. By the time I found out what he did, you guys were already fighting them. I realized Aincatar would be moving on the claw, so I took it for safekeeping."

"So you never fenced it?" Hadvar asked. "You lied during our meeting?"

"Right." Anali affirmed. "I knew that if I simply handed you the claw, it would be in Aincatar's arms before the hour was up. So I held onto it. But then someone came into the Flagon and took it while I was out. And somehow it ended up in Rannevig's Fast." Hadvar blinked. He had no idea a war between Anali and Aincatar was taking place in the shadows. If he thought Tacitus was good at subterfuge, Hadvar was sorely mistaken. Tacitus paled in comparison to Anali's cleverity and skill.

* * *

The duo trudged on, slowly approaching the border into Eastmarch. The weather was already changing-winds from the south brought warmer temperatures. Hadvar and Anali's steps slowed as got closer and closer to separation.

But the inevitable came and they finally reached the border into Eastmarch Hold. The two were still deep in Stormcloak territory, but they were a day's walk from Riften. They crossed the final snowdrift in the Pale and gazed over the volcanic hot springs of Eastmarch.

"So I guess this is it." Anali said as she slowed her steps to a stop. "You can at least stop whining about the cold now." Hadvar huffed in amusement.

"I wasn't _that_ bad." He protested. Anali raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really, big baby?" She replied, smiling up at him. Hadvar smirked. Out of all the people in Tamriel, Anali was the only one who could get away with calling him that.

"Okay fine." Hadvar fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. He looked back at Anali, who had taken to watching the geysers erupt. Hadvar gulped, his words catching in his throat.

"So, uh…" Hadvar scratched the back of his neck. Gods, it wasn't this hard with Ysolda. He swallowed, sucked in a breath, then tried again. "Wouldyoukindasortawanttogooutonadatewithme?" Anali looked at him, blinking.

"What?" She asked, confused. Hadvar took another deep breath and tried a third time.

"Would you like to go out on a date sometime?" The soldier asked, this time properly enunciating his words.

"Oh." Anali said, eyes widening. "Yes! Yes of course." Her arms crossed against her chest. "'Sometime' can't happen until next month, though. This excursion will have sent me way behind on contracts."

"Okay." Hadvar said, nodding fervently. Honestly, he didn't care what reason she gave. All that mattered was that he'd see her again. Hadvar was beyond ecstatic. "Great. Fantastic!" He couldn't stop smiling, and Anali giggled at his expression.

"Okay, big guy." She said, grinning herself and nudging Hadvar's arm. "Shove off. Something tells me you've got a lot to prepare for, now." Hadvar nodded and started hopping off towards Ivarstead.

"See you later!" Hadvar called over his shoulder. "One month from today!"

"Can't wait." Anali shouted back. Hadvar turned back around with the grin still on his face. That single mission couldn't have gone any better.


	13. How to Steal a Library

**A/N: Hey everyone! I want to give a big thanks to everyone who's reviewed/followed/ghosted/favorited through this story. Here's the next chapter, this time out a few hours before I said it would be. The next chapter should be out next week. Enjoy!**

* * *

Anali stared at the massive bone. The object had the audacity to span the length of her Guildmaster desk, replacing her ledger and Gray Fox bust. And it had single-handedly stumped her. Anali couldn't figure out for the life of her what it belonged to. The Nightingale sighed and looked across the Cistern, noting that most of her thieves were snoozing in their beds. That meant it was the early morning, and she had started working on the bone after dinner. _By Nocturnal,_ Anali thought to herself. _Just how many hours have I spent on this?_ The master thief poured herself another mug of Black-Briar mead and nearly gulped its contents down. Thanks to her status as the Nightingale and the Guild's steadfast alliance with Maven Black-Briar, Anali had access to her own private reserve of the mead. In all honesty, it _took_ the best of the best to help calm her nightmares. And lots of it.

Anali kicked the rest of the drink back and went back to glowering at the mysterious bone. _One last go at it couldn't hurt_ , she thought to herself. The master thief put her mug back down and lifted one end of the bone for the umpteenth time. The loose, worn strands on each end indicated a lot of pressure on the ligaments attached to the bone. It meant the creature moved a hefty amount of weight around this particular bone. Anali looked at the structure on the end- it was almost rounded like a ball, meaning it was a part of a ball and socket joint. The other end was flattened and triangular, indicating a hinge joint. Judging from those two joints and the payload, Anali could assume the bone was part of the upper arm. But that was as far as she got-the exact species remained elusive.

Anali took a step back, unable to stop her mind from wandering. There were twenty days left until her date with Hadvar, and her excitement was growing. _What is wrong with me?_ Anali thought, nervously tapping her fingers against the desk. _Could this be that weird love feeling Indara kept talking about when she married Mathies?_

"Hey Ani." Brynjolf came walking into the Cistern. His violet eyes widened as he saw the object on Anali's desk. "Good gods, lass." He said. "That's a big-ass bone. How much are you selling it for?" Anali shook herself out of her thoughts and smiled at Brynjolf's instant assumption. That's her Guild. Always with money on the mind.

"This one's not for sale, Bryn." Anali said as she patted the bone. "I've been trying to figure out what it belonged to." Brynjolf's attention turned back to the obnoxious object.

"Well, it certainly belongs to something massive, lass." Brynjolf stated. "It's a funny bone, though."

"Ha ha." Anali deadpanned back. "You're _such_ a comedian, Bryn." The Guild's second in command smiled at Anali's sarcasm. He gave the bone a tentative poke.

"It looks like a giant's bone." Brynjolf surmised. Anali shrugged.

"That's what I thought at first." She poured herself another mug. "But giants aren't particularly arcane creatures. And a Legion can easily take down a giant. So it wouldn't make sense for your common giant to be at the heart of this plan."

"Maybe it's not your garden variety giant, lass." Brynjolf rebuked.

"I've never heard of anything like that."

"Looks like you have some research to do, lass."

"How?" Anali asked, incredulous. "I live in a cistern. I'm a wanted criminal all across Skyrim. It's not like I can walk up to a librarian and go 'Hey, I'm the Nightingale. Can I use your library?'"

"No." Brynjolf replied, chuckling. "You can't. But we both know what the Nightingale _can_ do." Anali blinked at him.

"You're telling me to _steal_ a library?" Anali clarified. "How does that work? What do I do; pick it up and stick it in my pockets? That'd be like trying to stuff the White Gold Tower in a bottle."

"I'm sure you can figure out something creative." Brynjolf said. "You always do, lass." Her second in command walked off, leaving Anali to her thoughts. She cleared the bone from her desk. The Nightingale had a heist to plan.

* * *

Anali's mottled mare made the final bend around the mountain and her masked eyes caught sight of Winterhold. The Nightingale was quick to divert her horse off the road and behind the steep snowbanks nearby. It'd make things easier if the guards didn't see a horse standing around with no rider. Anali's mare brayed as the master thief dismounted.

"Shh, Thea." Anali softly said as she offered the horse a carrot. It wouldn't do for the guards to hear Thea. "Quiet. Stay. I'll be back." Anali checked to make sure her Nightingale hood was in place and darted off towards Winterhold.

Anali reached the outskirts of the ruined city in under thirty bounds. She slowed to a stop, making out the faint light from the torches the guards carried. The master thief crouched behind a nearby bush to observe their movements. Her informant Enthir reported that the guards only patrol the main road, since the rest of the city was little more than rubble. Unfortunately, that main road was the best way to access the bridge to the College of Winterhold. So Anali would have to plan her steps accordingly. She silently made the transition from the bush to behind the Jarl's longhouse.

Once the guards had passed the longhouse and could no longer keep their eyes on it, Anali darted to the ruined house beside the bridge to the College of Winterhold. But she could tell the bridge was not clear. A single mage stood at the first landing, watching for any unwanted visitors. Going off of Enthir's reports, Anali figured the mage was Faralda. _Great,_ Anali thought. _Sneaking around a Destruction master is the last thing I want to do_. The master thief took a second look at Faralda's position. Even if her Shadowcloak was activated, there was no way to walk past the mage without bumping into her. Then Anali noticed the grooves running along the side of the stone bridge. She inched forward to gauge the drop from the bridge to the trench below. Anali would be little more than a flattened pancake if she fell. But this particular heist was time-sensitive. She didn't have the time to come up with something else.

With one last look to make sure the guards were gone, Anali silently sprang from the edge of the cliff to the groove in the bridge. Her fingers found purchase in the sidelong ridge, and she made the mistake of looking downwards. The fact that Anali was hanging by her fingers above a 200 foot drop hit her full force. _Why did I ever let Brynjolf talk me into this?_ Anali thought, groaning internally. She lifted her upper body just enough to peek at Faralda. The mage hadn't heard a thing.

With every ounce of willpower she could muster, Anali sidled along the side groove until Faralda was out of sight. Then she hoisted herself onto the bridge proper and dashed up to the entrance to the College of Winterhold. The gate to the college grounds was closed, and wouldn't open without a spell, and Anali didn't know what it was. But the college's architecture left a gaping window next to the gate. With a confident leap, the Nightingale sailed through the empty arch and planted her feet on the college grounds.

A quick glance around told her no one was in the courtyard-which was lucky. The Nightingale crossed the gardens and stepped into the Arcanaeum. The information on the bone had to be here somewhere: there was no better compiled library in all of Skyrim. The hard part was that Anali had to find that info in a sea of books in only a few hours, all while evading Urag gro-Shub.

Anali climbed the steps into the library and then froze. Her ears picked up the sound of an aged Orc's voice. The Nightingale blended into the shadows in an instant, her silver eyes scanning the room for Urag. She found him attending one of the bookshelves. Anali watched him pick up a book and caress its cover.

"Good night, sweet story..." Urag mumbled, placing the book back in its rightful position—only to pick up the adjacent book and repeat the process.

Trying her best not to judge, Anali made her way to the bestiary section. It didn't take her long to locate giants among the shelves and was browsing through their titles. She found a books called "Epidemiology of Giants," "How to Train Your Giant," "A Farmer's Guide to Giants and their Dung," along with other oddly titled books. The Nightingale noticed a subcategory of frost giants, glanced back at Urag, and pocketed the entire section. She'd find the time to go back and read them later.

Anali was out of the Arcanaeum in a matter of silent seconds. She made a beeline for the trapdoor to the Midden and out through its secret entrance. She'd rather not watch a grown Orc break down and cry over a few missing books.

* * *

It wasn't long until Anali swept back around the emaciated town of Winterhold. She spotted Thea's speckled pelt and swung with ease onto the saddle. The Nightingale gently dug her heels into the horse's sides, asking for a gallop. Thea huffed and charged off into the snowdrifts, a heist well done.

The sun was starting to rise when Anali crossed into the Rift. The handful of the sun's rays lit up the forest's red leaves, and they gave a soft crunch under Thea's hooves. Anali was almost at Merryfair Farm when a horse-drawn carriage drove up to block her Nightingale slowed her horse to a stop, weary of the situation. Anali's grip tightened on Thea's reins when she saw a black-haired woman dressed in wealthy clothes exit the carriage.

"Maven Black-Briar." Anali's response was curt. She wasn't expecting a visit from the Rift's matriarch, and Anali wasn't a fan of unexpected happenings in her life-especially concerning the Black-Briars. To Anali, the political powerhouse was just a whiny sack of gold for the Guild. Though unfortunately Maven was a particularly large sack of gold-one the Guild can't live without-and she came with way too many strings attached.

"Let's skip the pleasantries." Maven finished dismounting from the carriage. She paused to dust imaginary specks of dirt off her clothes. Anali gave a small shrug.

"That's fine." Anali affirmed. _It's not like we could possibly have any pleasantries anyway_ , the Nightingale thought to herself. Maven finished straightening her bark brown coat.

"I have need of your professional skills." Maven's words were sharp and to the point. Anali dismounted from her own horse and crossed her arms across her chest. It wouldn't do for Anali to be at a higher altitude than the head of the Black-Briars. Maven would have taken offense.

"A job?" The Nightingale calmly asked. "That just means more coin for me. I'm all ears."

"You will have plenty of that, don't worry." There was a hint of disgust in the Black-Briar's voice. "The Legion has been horribly uncooperative with shipping my mead around, especially in Skyrim. They need to be taught a lesson."

"'Taught a lesson?'" Anali repeated. "I give lessons now? Is the Dark Brotherhood on vacation or something?" Her remark earned a glare from Maven.

"The Dark Brotherhood seems to be unreachable as of late." The matriarch replied. "And you are more qualified than they are for this. You are to infiltrate Castle Dour and steal something from General Tullius. I don't really care what it is-just make it something important. It needs to happen twenty days from now." Anali eyes widened. Her date with Hadvar was twenty days away. There was no way she could make it from Solitude to Riverwood in time.

"No." It was Anali's first response. "If I'm to do this heist, then it has to be at some other time." It was Maven's turn to shake her head.

"Absolutely not." The matriarch did well to hide it, but she was furious. "The heist _will_ happen when I say it will. I don't care about your excuses or your private life. You have a job to do, Nightingale." There wasn't much Anali could do to negotiate. Maven was well-known for her my-way-or-the-highway attitude, and she knew the names of Anali's best operatives. There was no refusing the Black-Briars-Maven would instantly expose those Guild members. Anali tried to consider her options, but a familiar wave of panic slammed into her. She swayed a little and grabbed at Thea's reins to steady herself.

"All right." Anali breathed, desperately trying to hold her panic back until she could politely bolt. "Fine. I'll do it." She hoisted herself back onto Thea's saddle and pointed the mare towards Helgen. Thea sensed her mistress' fear and took off into the woods. Maven said something, but Anali no longer had the composure to register what she had said.

Anali's panic rose and rose with each meter Thea passed. The mare had reached a snow-filled clearing when Anali's vision began to blur. The dizziness hit her at once and she fell off of the saddle. Anali barely had the awareness to roll out of Thea's path before lying on her back and staring at the sky. Her chest seared in unfathomable pain. Her heart was pounding so hard Anali thought it might snap her ribs and rip through her chest. She fumbled for the black cloth covering her nose and mouth and yanked it off, desperately trying to gasp for more air. Anali greedily inhaled the sharp atmosphere, but no amount of it quenched her burning lungs. She barely registered a frigid flake melt on her cheek. She looked through the red haze that was her vision and saw snowflakes cascade from the sky. The sight of red on snow brought Anali a new wave of panic and her vision went black. Anali rolled onto her side and curled up into a fetal position, unable to stop the frightening images of blood spatters on snowbanks. Anali was going to die. She could hear the snaps of the guard's whips and the pitiful screaming. Anali's heart beat faster and faster. She was going to die. Anali saw herself collapse onto the reddened snow and everything finally went black.

Anali woke up lying on her side and Thea's muzzle nudging her forehead, trying to see what was wrong with her mistress. Anali dazedly brought her hand up to the mare, gratefully rubbing the horse's fur. She took a deep breath and was relieved to find Nightingale armor on her hands rather than iron chains. Anali pulled her mask back into place and readied herself to stand up. It took two tries and a massive amount of willpower and energy, but she managed to stand-albeit leaning on Thea for support. The Nightingale gave a tired chuckle as she headed back toward Riften. How fitting was it that she had another episode when she found another reason to feel trapped.

* * *

Hadvar gave one last look over the table. He wanted to be sure everything was perfect before Anali arrived. Hadvar had spent his entire month in preparation for this one night. He went to General Tullius and asked to engage the rebels at Hadvar saw fit-so he had more freedom to help Anali with stopping Aincatar. Hadvar had started looking into houses in Riften so he could be closer to his girl, but none were vacant. Or, if tonight went well, he could convince Anali to rejoin the Legion-and things would go back to the way they were.

Back to the way things were... Hadvar couldn't wait until Anali's disappearance was only a tiny memory. He couldn't wait to go back to that time after the Battle for Whiterun when they were together, and the possibilities seemed endless.

Hadvar looked back at the table. He had spared no expense. Hadvar had found a portable table and brought it out to the Guardian Stones, the spot where they had parted for the first time. He used his horse to bring out two chairs and all the other dining essentials. Hadvar lit candles to illuminate the dining table and populated it with the best food his salary could buy. There were lavender dumplings, a jazzberry crostata, roasted beef, braided bread, wine, and numerous fruits-all under a clear night sky and surrounded by the stones of fate. It was perfect. Hadvar could even hear the quiet lapping of Lake Illinalta. The soldier contentedly settled into his chair, waiting for Anali to come up the road.

Hours passed, and there was still no sign of her. Hadvar wasn't worried until the tall candles started running out of wax. Then his mind was racing. This was the right day. Did Anali forget? She was only running late, right? The hours piled on and on, and the sun was rising when Hadvar started collecting all his things.

Anali never showed up.

That morning, Hadvar heard that the Nightingale spent the time stealing from Castle Dour.


	14. Misconceptions

**A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks to everyone who's followed, favorited, reviewed and ghosted through this story so far, and here's the next chapter! This one might be a bit short, but it's got a lot going on. Unfortunately I need at least three weeks to complete the next chapter, but I'll try to get it done as soon as I can. For now, enjoy the new chapter!**

* * *

Hadvar couldn't believe it. Anali stood him up on their date, and then spends the time stealing from General Tullius himself? She was Legion, for Nirn's sake! Had their whole campaign together meant nothing to her? Hadvar was beyond enraged. He put everything on the line for Anali-his money, his job, his heart. Hadvar had even split up with Ysolda the instant he arrived back in Whiterun. And _this_ is what he got in return? An attack on his Legion?

Anali had instantly disappeared after she made the theft. Tracking her was impossible, especially with his own skills. Legate Fasendil hadn't reported her return to Riften, even Tacitus couldn't pinpoint the Nightingale's location. She had effectively vanished from the map.

Hadvar slowed his horse to a trot through Falkreath's woods. He had one last theory to try. Anali had said something interesting back at Rannveig's Fast: " _The Key is my responsibility. It's my job to make sure it stays where it is._ " And she mentioned the Skeleton Key was in the Twilight Sepulcher. So if Hadvar attacked the Twilight Sepulcher, then Anali would have no choice but to stop him, right? It was worth a shot. He hadn't come to talk-The Nightingale was a threat to the Legion and must be neutralized.

It wasn't long until he found the old ruin-there aren't many of them in Falkreath. Hadvar slowed his black horse to a stop and dismounted. He crossed the stream and opened the black door built into the rock outcropping. After maneuvering through some small tunnels, Hadvar came to one massive chamber. Three sets of stairs led to some circular purple portal centered on the back wall. Hadvar guessed that's what Anali protects. He looked around the chamber, and noticed he was still the only one in the chamber. Simply stepping in apparently doesn't set off the ruin's alarm. Hadvar took a deep breath and put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He wasn't going to turn back now. After a final moment, Hadvar pulled the sword from its sheath.

His back was up against the wall in mere moments, with his sword halfway across the chamber. A downwards glance revealed a woman wearing Nightingale armor.

"What the-" the moonlit voice said, relaxing her grip. "Hadvar?" Anali ripped her hood off. "Are you out of your _mind_?" She grabbed Hadvar's collar and nearly dragged him outside the Twilight Sepulcher.

"Hey!" Hadvar protested, trying to pull back. Anali half released, half flung the soldier ahead of her.

"You're incredibly lucky I got there first." Anali continued. "Brynjolf and Karliah wouldn't have been so merciful." Hadvar righted his collar and looked skyward.

"Why did you do it?" It was all he said on the matter. Anali's features softened when she noticed his trembling lip.

"Hadvar." She began. "Maven Black-Briar asked me to do it. And in the Thieves Guild, her word is law. I had no choice." Hadvar's posture dropped in exasperation.

"So you're more loyal to a corrupt matriarch than the Legion, is that it?" Hadvar rebuked. "Come on, Anali. You were a Legionnaire."

"'Were' is the operative word there." Anali crossed her arms as her features started to redden. "I have _absolutely_ no loyalties to the Legion now." Hadvar sighed.

"All right." He said. "I get it. You want nothing more than to steal." Hadvar ignored Anali's cringe and reached into his pockets. "And I have to acknowledge that." Hadvar pulled out a pair of iron manacles. "You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people, Anali. What say you in your defense?"

All the color drained from Anali's face the moment she saw the handcuffs. Now she looked paler than a Snow Elf, and the only feature that didn't change was the claw scar on her cheekbone. The thief started to back away, eyes wide in panic.

"Hadvar." Anali said, visibly trying to keep her voice level. "You aren't actually going to do this, are you?" Hadvar could see her panicked breath from his spot ten feet away.

"You aren't giving me any other choice, Anali." The soldier replied. "You left me and you left the Legion four years ago. And you decided to spend all that time stealing like the skeever you really are and live like a queen. I tried to ask you out again, and you instead spent the time stealing from the Legion, from me." Hadvar started to take a few steps closer. "So now I have to-"

His words were cut off when Chillrend was pressed against his neck as his back was forced against a tree, and the manacles were kicked across the forest floor. Anali's violet, enraged eyes bored into Hadvar's.

"You think you understand what's happened to me, is that it?" Anali hissed at the soldier. "You think that I've been doing all of this for _myself_? You think _you're_ the one that's been wronged the worst?" Hadvar only gulped. "Well, let me educate you." Anali continued, her voice turning to a low growl. " _You do not understand_. You've been sitting in your fort all safe and sound and with the Legion catering to your needs these past four years. You do not understand what it's like to be held captive by Stormcloaks. You do not understand what it's like to be caged in a Stormcloak prison for over a year, when you're only fed the dog's leftovers once a week. You do not understand what it's like to be tortured to the point where it's normalcy. You do not understand what it's like to be violated regularly. You do not understand what it's like to sleep in a pool of your own blood. You do not understand what it's like to have everything that makes you who you are stripped away from you. You do not understand what it's like to get into bed and wonder which nightmare you'll have tonight." Anali's face had become more and more pained with every sentence. Hadvar could see tears threatening to fall. "So don't go thinking you had the short end of this stick." Anali continued. "I was living in hell for sixteen months. And where was the Legion? *Where were you? The Legion knew what happened to me after the third day-you saw the records yourself. No rescue came. I hate the Stormcloaks for subjecting me to a fate worse than death and I hate the Legion for leaving me to that fate. So you'll excuse me if I don't give a damn about the Legion now. And Nocturnal help me, if I _ever_ see another pair of iron chains again..."

Anali finally sheathed Chillrend and backed away from Hadvar. He watched her wipe away some tears. "The torturers somehow found out about you. They told me I couldn't trust you, that you wouldn't understand. They told me a lot of things, and they were wrong about a lot of things. But I guess they were right about this one. So if you want to arrest me, then fine. But you're going to have to catch me first."

And with a flash of purple, the pained torrent that was Anali was gone.


	15. Reparations Part 1

**Yes, this is an update! I know, it's kinda hard to believe after all this time. I've run into a bit of a snag with this particular chapter but too much time has passed, and I made the decision to split it in half and post what I have for now. I feel bad just sending out part of a chapter rather than the whole one, but something is better than nothing. I also feel like you guys have a right to know what's been keeping me from updating. It's a bit of a juicy story, but if you're just here for the update you can skip the A/N and I'll understand.**

 **First off, every word that you've seen from me has been written with two writing disabilities. Long neurobiological story short, it takes me twice as long and four times as much effort to complete what a normal person can do. This can (and often does) make my writing process excruciating because it doesn't make you feel good when everyone around you is well into their fourth page and you've got only two sentences. I can't recall how many times I've sat down for a two-hour writing exercise and suddenly my entire day is consumed. You think you've got long finals? My record time is 12 hours of sitting in the same spot trying to take a test.**

 **Growing up with these disabilities originally didn't give me any confidence at all in my writing abilities. It was just accepted fact that I was horrible at it. The sky was blue, the grass was green and I sucked at English class—my teachers in elementary school even taught it to me. Not many can understand just how much strength, bravery, and determination it takes to overcome not only a disability, but also the mentality of not excelling at something. It took almost a decade of reconditioning and hours upon hours of practice to get to where I am today. In fact it's a miracle that I'm even writing creatively at all. My hard work had finally paid off around this time last year, when I could honestly sit down and pound out absolute shit and I would still be proud of it.**

 **So here's the reason why I'm telling you all this. One day in February I was having a particularly bad time working through this chapter when my boyfriend had gotten hold of** _ **Song of the Nightingale**_ **. Originally I thought it wasn't a problem—I shouldn't have to hide anything from him, and my writing is the closest thing to me. But I never expected what the hell he would say about it. It wasn't productive feedback. It wasn't even one of his editorial critiques. It was a flat out, destructive, disrespectful judgment. It was clear I was a shit writer in his eyes and** _ **Song of the Nightingale**_ **was beneath him. If this came from almost anyone else I would have been able to handle it better. But from the one who supposed to protect and support me—plus the background I came from—it was devastating. 8-9 years of hard work went down the drain in a matter of five minutes. And that's why I haven't updated. I had a really hard time looking at this story for a while, it even now is emotionally tough to work on. I was tempted to just stop writing entirely.**

 **But I'm not called RisingPhoenix56 for nothing. Giving up is not a thing that I do. My creative wings have been burnt to ashes before, and there's nothing stopping them from reigniting again. Anali and Hadvar deserve to have an ending, you all deserve to read it, and I deserve to finish it. If I was going to ever stop writing, then I never would have started this journey in the first place. So, here's an update with my apologies for making you wait this long but also my gratitude for your patience. Right now I'm working through the end of the semester plus preparing to travel, and I'm working on something big. So I can't exactly say when the next update will be out, but I can** _ **guarantee**_ **you it will be published at some point. Until then you all deserve a new part-chapter thingy, so go enjoy.**

 **You are a star for reading this all the way through,**

 **~RisingPhoenix56**

 **P.S. That boyfriend ended up getting the slip.**

* * *

Anali didn't want to get up. By the gods, she didn't want to face reality. The woman was waging an inner war with herself, fighting the urge to pull the covers over her head and shut the world out. Anali wanted nothing more in the world to lie in bed all day and never come out of the covers again.

Her life was a mess. She had to live with the constant reminders of her torture. Her old friends and family thought she was dead and some still mourned her, and there was no way to tell them she was still alive. And when she finally surfaced, they try to throw her back into the prisons again?

Yeah, today was one of those days that wasn't much better than the nightmares Anali had at night. She wanted just one day to sit down and feel what she truly felt. She didn't want to pull herself together today. She couldn't.

But she had to. She couldn't have one of those days. She had to get up, and she had to do it effortlessly. Anali learned long ago she could show no weakness. The past few days that she'd spent laying around in Honeyside had cost the Guild precious coin. And she couldn't have that. Anali was their leader, the one everyone looked up to. She had to be that stern voice when a dispute broke out, she had to be that shoulder no one knew they needed to lean on. She had to be the Nightingale: that stoic, confident, accomplished badass everyone respected and admired.

But deep inside, she was falling apart. And no one knew. No one _could_ know.

* * *

Anali heard the door to Honeyside creak open as she tried to dissolve into her covers. She heard familiar footsteps walk through the kitchen and up to the foot of her bed.

"Ani, come on." Brynjolf's voice broke through the cover's muffle. "We know you're not sleeping. There's no way you could be after a fight like that." Anali's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. We? There was only one pair of footsteps. Anali's head peeked out from her lump in the bed, and her eyes found a Dunmeri woman dressed in similar Nightingale garb.

"Karliah." Anali muttered to herself as her head settled back down on the pillow. "I should have known you'd come with Bryn." Karliah leaned over the low table at the foot of the bed.

"We've been worried about you." Karliah's gentle voice replied. "Bryn says he hasn't seen you in the Cistern for days now. And given the velocity of your spat with that soldier back at the temple, we thought you could use a little cheering up." Anali pressed her thumb and middle finger to her temples.

"You guys heard that?" Anali groaned as she sat up and reached for the bottle of Black-Briar Reserve on her nightstand. The young woman frowned when she didn't find a drop left inside.

"You two weren't standing far from the Sepulcher to begin with." Brynjolf said, moving to take a seat on the side of the bed. "So yeah-we heard everything, lass."

"Sorry." Anali's features morphed into a grimace. "I imagine you guys didn't want to listen to something that depressing."

"Nonsense." Karliah replied. "We want to hear whatever you have to share." Anali let herself show a small smirk. Despite her serious exterior, Karliah loved to hear all about the local drama.

"Actually, lass." Brynjolf added. "It was rather interesting to listen to." His remark earned him glares from both the women in the room. "Okay, not like _that_." He clarified. "But what I noticed was _how much_ you told Hadvar, and how fast. You're usually tight-lipped about Fort Kastav. You didn't even tell _me_ everything."

"Yeah." Anali muttered. "Hadvar gets to me sometimes."

"I can imagine." Karliah replied. "And I can bet you get to Hadvar, too." Anali paused; Karliah's comment caught the thief off guard.

"You're not as secretive as you think, lass." Brynjolf added. "How long has it been since Cynric and I found you at the Nightgate Inn? Almost three years? Vex and I nursed you back to health, lass-I know you. You can't hide much from me. I knew you had a date with the soldier when Maven had you go for that job."

"And I guess that was a mistake." Anali sighed. "It was wrong of me to say yes to him. I shouldn't have made a promise that was doomed to break."

"In what way?" Karliah's brow furrowed.

"Look, Hadvar and I were really close before...you know." Anali tugged her Nightingale gloves off her fingers. "And I loved him. I really did. I was happy to see him after all these years. But...things have changed since those golden times with him. Thanks to those gods-forsaken torturers, I'm not the same person anymore." Anali paused, sighing. "When I saw Hadvar again, I thought I could pretend all this emotional baggage didn't exist. I thought things could go back to the way they were before I was tortured." Anali's eyes caught the shape of her scar in her bottle's reflection. "But they can't." She continued, looking up at the ceiling. "It took me until now to realize it, but the torturers ripped out my capacity for feeling love again. I can't pretend that year and a half never happened. I can't run from this."

"No, lass." Brynjolf said after a moment of silence. "You can't run from it, and it would be wrong to anyway." He moved his gaze from the floor to the Nightingale. "But you can _own_ it. It is a part of you, no matter if it's wanted or not. You can sit around and try to pretend you were never tortured, but that doesn't change the fact that it still happened. And you needn't worry about this 'lack of capacity' thing, lass. Nobody stares at a bone for hours on end. You still love Hadvar and you know it. You're just too afraid to notice it. So how about you stop running from things, get out of this house, and take your life back?"

* * *

Hadvar's eyes dragged across Whiterun's Bannered Mare. He then looked at the mug of Honningbrew Mead in front of him. The last time he sat down at a tavern like this was back when he first heard about Anali's capture. He thought it was ironically fitting that he was doing the same thing after hearing the full story. Hadvar was well into into his third cup of mead when a familiar walking cane plopped down next to him.

"Quintus?" Hadvar asked. "What are you doing here?" Quintus cast a glance at his old friend.

"I was in the area picking up materials for the fletchers in Solitude." Quintus replied as he began to eye a passing barmaid. "So I'd thought I'd stop by and see what you've been up to." He caught sight of the drink in Hadvar's hand. "How many of those have you had?"

"Not enough." Hadvar groaned. "I've been doing this for a while, and the stuff's still not kicking in." Hadvar took another swig of his drink. Quintus furrowed an eyebrow.

"What's been going on?" He asked.

"Oh, nothing much." Hadvar replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Just found out that Anali happens to be the freaking Nightingale and really isn't the same person I once knew. She's the one that stole from General Tullius." Hadvar took a sarcastic breath. "So yeah, just another day at work." Quintus nodded thoughtfully.

"So her secret's finally out, is it?" Quintus wondered aloud. Hadvar turned to stare at him.

"Are you telling me you knew all this time?" Hadvar said, shocked.

"Well, not _all_ this time." Quintus disaffirmed. "I was just as convinced as you that Anali died in that ambush. But I once had the pleasure of getting drunk at the Black-Briar Meadery, and I heard a voice that was familiar. I couldn't pinpoint who it was until I was sober the next day, and she was long gone by then."

"Then why didn't you ever tell me?" Hadvar asked.

"Because her friend showed up at my bedside the next morning and told me he'd skin me alive if I said anything." Quintus replied. "And he's one big Nord." Hadvar sighed.

"Well then you would have also seen that she's changed." Hadvar spat. "Do you even know what the Thieves Guild does to their members if they're caught? It's an instant disown. They're evil, and they live on the corruption of chaos. The Anali we knew would never do anything like this. By Akatosh, she would have been the first to _catch_ the Nightingale, not _be_ her." Quintus furrowed his eyebrows.

"I don't see it that way." He replied. "She might have a lot of baggage now, sure. But it's still the same old Anali." Hadvar turned to look at Quintus like he had three heads. The crippled fletcher caught the expression and rolled his eyes. "Look, you dense horker." Quintus gave Hadvar an affectionate clap on the shoulder. "I've known you for four years now. You're a good soldier and a good friend. But almost everything that comes out of your piehole is paid Imperial propaganda. You have a tendency to to parrot whoever you admire. Legate Rikke and General Tullius may believe that everything is either good or bad according to the law, but is that really the case? I think it's time _you_ decided what you believed in, instead of letting someone else make the decision for you."


	16. Reparations Part 2

Hadvar took a deep breath as he plopped off his horse and stepped into the fall forests of the Rift. His black steed brayed as the commander gathered up the reins in one hand. Hadvar looked around the forest and saw nothing but bright white trunks and flaming orange leaves. He listened carefully to the birds and insects chirp. The woods in the Rift were beautiful, no doubt about it. But Hadvar hadn't come to sightsee.

The commander scanned the area once again, searching for any scraps of black. No one had heard from Anali in weeks, although Hadvar had to surmise that wasn't unusual for the Nightingale. After all, Anali had built an entire career based on her ability to disappear. But nevertheless, Hadvar was still concerned about her. Anali was remarkably distressed last time they spoke, and he didn't know what had happened in the interim. He had come to the Rift to try to check on her.

Hadvar led his horse down the road for a while longer until he spotted a small rock overhang not too far off the road. He started to scale it, figuring it would provide a good vantage point over the area. A few crumbling rocks later and Hadvar was sitting perched on top of the overhang. Hadvar inspected his new view. The overhang let him see over the treetops, but there was still no sign of the Nightingale.

"Turn around slowly." An aged voice demanded. Hadvar felt some sort of stick press against his back. He carefully looked behind him to find a wrinkled old mage wrapped in black robes. The intricate symbols and trinkets adorning the mage's clothing told Hadvar the worst. This was an arch conjurer. He hated fighting magic wielders. Stormcloaks never used magic, so Skyrim Legionairres weren't trained against it as much. To Hadvar, he might as well be fighting the air.

Hadvar cautiously raised his hand in a gesture of peace. He'd rather escape fighting a mage if he could. But the mage wasn't impressed with his motion, choosing to charge up a spell than accept a surrender. Hadvar was on his feet in seconds, but he was pinned against the terrain. With his back to a cliff, a fight would go-quite literally-downhill for him.

Hadvar had his shield ready to block the spell when a blue blade sprouted from the mage's chest. The sword retracted as quickly as it came and the mage collapsed onto the ground, revealing a black figure cleaning Chillrend with a cloth. She stood a good nine feet away from him, working through cleaning the blade but still keeping her eyes trained on Hadvar's movements. He stood stock still, not daring to move a muscle and frighten her off. Several minutes had passed before the Nightingale finally sheathed her sword.

"You know," she began. "I'm starting to notice a trend here. That must be the fifth time I've saved your skin." The Nightingale paused, placing a hand on her hip. Hadvar chuckled, grateful that the tense atmosphere broke. The Nightingale started to move off the cliff, and gestured for him to follow. It wasn't long until they came to a small circular clearing, and Hadvar began to scan his surroundings. He did a double take, registering a very familiar symbol marked on a gigantic black obelisk. The soldier was stunned. The stone stood close to the center of a circle, not far off from the main road. And it proudly bore the crest of the Nightingale, and was one of the only landmarks that connected itself to the master thief. She paid it no heed, and instead chose to cross over to the rock wall at the back. The Nightingale only had to stand for a moment before the rock wall crumbled to the ground, revealing a short walkway to a hidden door. She began to walk in, briefly gesturing for Hadvar to follow. He moved quickly, not wanting to miss his opportunity. The master thief was actually giving him a chance.

They moved into an underground expanse littered with banners bearing the Nightingale crest, a table on the far side of the room and a few beds strewn here and there. The odd lighting in the cavern cast a bluish, almost purple glow on both the rouge and the soldier. The Nightingale walked to the corner of the little bridge before stopping to pull off her mask.

"There." The young woman began. "Now we can have our conversation in private." They stood in silence for a few moments until Hadvar worked up his courage.

"I'm sorry." They both said at the same time, then looked at each other.

"No, I didn't-"

"I mean-"

Anali eventually did the smart thing and clamped her hand over Hadvar's mouth, keeping him from talking again. He got the message and swallowed.

"I owe you an apology." Anali began. "I… shouldn't have lost my temper."

"No, it's fi-" Hadvar began to try to console her.

"No, it _isn't_." Anali determinedly spoke back. "It definitely isn't. I couldn't have done anything about that mission, but I _could_ have let you know I couldn't make our meeting. I was just worried about courier confidentiality and whether or not you'd stop me. But none of that matters."

"Why not?" Hadvar was confused. Anali tended to lose him from time to time.

"Because none of that matters. I should have done something anyway." Anali replied, then sighed once she realized she wasn't making any headway with him. "Look. You know the Ratway? There's a few people who live all the way in the back, past the Flagon. Although the term 'live' doesn't really suit them, they're really bad off. But there's this one person in there who used to be an officer of the Legion. I brought food to him from the Flagon every now and then because the poor sod refused to leave his room. He hardly left his chair, actually. He would just sit there reliving all the horror he went through in the Great War, over and over again. His issues dominated him so much he couldn't even bear the thought of shaving or sleeping or stepping outside. I was visiting the other day when it hit me-I could easily become him. That could so easily be me it's almost terrifying. I'm already living in the Ratway for Oblivion's sake. But by Nocturnal I don't want to live like that. I've got issues. And they're probably going to be with me for the rest of my life. But I'm _not_ going to let it control me. I've got better things to do."

"I got it." Hadvar finally understood, and he was relieved. Anali was ready to give things another shot too. "So then let's get back to it. Let's meet back at Hamvir's Rest and we'll stick it to this dead lich thing."

* * *

 **A/N: I LIIIIIIVE! Phew, big projects sure do require a lot of time. Plus real life is still a thing that needs to happen from time to time. But I said I was going to continue Hadvar and Anali's story and I'm going to. I had a spare day or two this weekend and I decided I could metaphorically bang my head against a wall for a bit and hope that a chapter would fall out. And it did! This one feels a little on the short side to me, but that would make sense because it was supposed to be a part of the last update. I decided to split it and upload in parts again because I had such trouble conceptualizing the Nightingale's monologue.**

 **This chapter actually marks the start of the home stretch. We're in the last arc now—I've only got a few chapters left in my manuscript and I don't think I'll be adding much more. As a general rule of thumb I usually keep my stories around 19-21 chapters. It's been a heck of a ride—all you guys reading this story have been massively supportive the whole way through and I really appreciate it. I'll see you guys in the next update!**

 **~RisingPhoenix56**


	17. Making Plans

**A/N: Update time! Thanks so much to everyone who's followed/favorited/reviewed/ghosted through this story. With regards to following updates, given a crazy real life schedule I can't exactly say when the next update will come out right now. But since I want to keep you guys in the loop about updates as much as I can, I dusted off my old Twitter account and I'll start tweeting my progress there. If you want more accurate estimates, follow me 56RisingPhoenix. That way you can know where I'm trying to put my deadlines and if any delays come up. I'll be doing the same for all my ongoing stories too.**

* * *

"Okay." Hadvar said as he and Anali walked back into Hamvir's Rest. "What did you find on the bone?" The master thief closed one of the books she had stolen from the Arcanaeum.

"Well it turns out there _are_ some super powerful giants." Anali replied. "There's this species of frost giant that usually isn't found in Skyrim, but they're much stronger than the garden variety. According to some archives, there was once this frost giant king that lived over 200 years ago." Hadvar looked at the chunk of marrow in his hands.

"So it would make sense if we found this skeleton now." Hadvar surmised. "What did this giant rule over?" Anali checked her books again.

"Rieklings, I think." Anali flipped a few pages. "The texts aren't exactly clear. But this Karstaag is one big monster. What I found in the Arcanaeum seems to suggest this frost giant king is capable of magic."

"Frost giants?" Hadvar piped up, gulping. "Magic? I didn't know that was a thing." Regular giants in Skyrim already required a full garrison to engage, and some strict strategy. A frost giant with magic would make short work of that unit. He was having a tough time envisioning Anali and himself even making it seven minutes into the battle, much less defeating it. "How on earth are two people going to take that?"

"By not engaging with it at all." Anali's response was deadpan and frank, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She waved his question off with a flick of her hand. "I don't know what it is with you Nords, but you guys always seem to think that you _have_ to attack the enemy for a victory. Sometimes avoidance is the best way to tackle a situation."

"Well, it certainly seems like the ideal thing to power up with the Skeleton Key." Hadvar mused as he continued to study the bone. His fingers played with the frayed edges. "This looks like a funny bone, doesn't it?" Hadvar let out a lopsided grin at his own joke.

"Yes, it does." Anali let out a sigh as she closed her book. "You and Brynjolf have been _so_ keen to point that out."

"That's another thing." Hadvar frowned. "You and Brynjolf. What's been going on there?"

"Nothing, don't get jealous." Anali chuckled slightly. "Nothing's going on. If anything, he's more of a father to me. I apparently look like his late daughter."

"Late daughter?"

"Yeah, it was really sad. She died at a young age from an illness. At the time, Bryn was septimless. He couldn't pay for medicine, so he tried to steal it. It...didn't work out."

"I...didn't know that." Hadvar thought out loud.

"Yeah, it's not common knowledge that thieves are people around here." Anali replied smirking. "Thieves Guild members often keep their weaknesses close to the vest. There's me with Fort Kastav, Bryn and his daughter, Niruin and his dad. The list goes on and on." She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "Anyways, enough tangents. We need to find a ship to Solstheim."

* * *

Hadvar decided he was not a fan of Solstheim. At all. Raven Rock was an old, decrepit settlement with few ships in its harbor and even less ore in its mine. And there was ash. _Everywhere_. The soot was so fine it managed to sneak into all the nooks and crannies in his Imperial armor. He felt like his whole body was itching.

"Gods." Hadvar groaned. "How do the Dunmer deal with all this ash?" A Dark Elf passed the duo, clad in airtight chitin armor.

"Like that." Anali tipped her head at the Dunmer. Hadvar sighed.

"Yeah okay." He grumbled. "Let's just get going so we can get out of this ghost town so I can breathe again." Anali chuckled.

"For someone who's spent a lot of time around forges, you're awfully intolerant of the air quality." She said. "And sorry to dash your hopes, but my contact lives here. We need to talk to him and find out if Aincatar's ahead of us or not." Hadvar kicked the ash out of his boot for the umpeenth time.

"Alright, let's just get this over with." He replied. "Where's this contact of yours?"

"Over there." Anali nodded towards one of the market stalls once they had reached the market. "See that funny mark near the door to the blacksmith's house? It helps members of the Guild single each other out."

"So the blacksmith's our guy?"

"That's right." Anali gave her black cape a flick to kick off the ash. "I thought you'd be interested. I hear Glover Mallory can craft some exotic pieces of armor." Hadvar's ears perked at the sound of "exotic" and "armor." He'd spent much of his young adult years at his uncle's forge, and picked up a passion for unique heavy armor. Hadvar wasted no time in crossing to the smith's station and browsing through the choices. Almost instantly a balded Breton popped out of the house to oversee Hadvar.

"You need something?" The Breton grumbled, putting his arms across his chest.

"He's with me." Anali spoke as she strode up to the blacksmith. "We noticed the shadowmark by your door." The bald Breton's features instantly lit up.

"Aha!" He replied, nodding at the emblem on Anali's chest. "I think I know who you are. I got your letter; let's come inside and talk." The Breton opened his house door and let the duo in. "So," he began. "How's my brother Delvin these days? Still trying to chase after Vex, I imagine?"

"Like you wouldn't believe, Glover." Anali replied with a snicker. "I've lost count of how many times I've had to pull him out of the lake reeds. Have you found any sign of the Thalmor I described?"

"Nope, sorry boss." The Breton named Glover said, shaking his head. Anali sighed.

"He's been quiet for too long." Anali mused. "I don't like where that's heading."

"We'll have to be careful." Hadvar replied.

"But the Karstaag bones that you mentioned?" Glover continued. "Those are here on Solstheim. The majority of them sit on his throne in the island's icy region, but the newfound crew of pirates have swiped his skull from Glacial Cave. You'll have to take it from them."


End file.
